Frannie's Lament
by Tanya Reed
Summary: Frannie's death effects everyone around her. This is actually an action adventure piece and not entirely a drama.
1. prologue

**Frannie's Lament**

**by Tanya Reed**

Well, here it is. The last of my Due South stories (though, who knows, I may wander back into the realm again some day.) I wrote it in 2003. It's one of my favorites, though I don't know what you guys will think. One thing to keep in mind when you read this is that sometimes things aren't always as they seem, and I hope the death in the beginning doesn't throw you off of the whole story. Oh, and this whole thing takes place after COTW.

Death fic warning.

Here are my original story notes:

The idea for this came to me in a dream. Can you believe that? Yup, I dreamed a whole scene from this thing about a year and a half ago. No matter how hard I tried to dismiss it, it would just not let me go. Anyway, this is the result. But before I get to the good stuff, I have to offer thank yous to a number of people. First of all has got to be Melissa and Jo, my wonderful betas. I also have to thank Shirley, because without her this story would never have been finished. I told her about my idea, and that I was thinking about putting it on a shelf and she challenged me to finish it. Being one never to turn down a challenge, here it is. Thank you also to Jim and Amanda for thoughts and helpful suggestions.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Due South and no money is being made from my fiction. Everything is owned by Alliance.

Now, on to the story...

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_Prologue_

It was like moving from one cave to another as the dark haired woman left the building and joined the other formless things scattered throughout the narrow passage. The alley was dark and damp after the evening's rain. Shadows deepened in the corners, and a stale, aged smell came from things that she didn't want to see. Fear tingled up her spine and she shivered slightly, clutching her purse in white knuckled fingers. The shiver was partly from chill, she should have known better than to wear this short, form fitting skirt, but mostly it was from the knowledge that they wanted her dead.

Her steps quickened and she huddled in her small jacket, trying to make herself invisible. Inner senses searched for signs of danger. She had been on edge now for so long that it was hard to remember what it was like to relax. It was all right, though. She trusted anxiety; anxiety would keep her safe.

Light glinted from a nearby, cracked window. It illuminated a pretty face framed by brown hair, a face that normally had a healthy tan but was now the color of bleached parchment. She turned her face towards the light for a moment, letting that one dim shaft give her a moment of hope. In that moment, as her footsteps stilled, she heard the footsteps of another. Hope and light forgotten, she began to hurry again. She could hear her high heeled shoes clicking on the broken pavement as they moved faster, and she heard the person behind her pick up his pace. Risking a glance over her shoulder, she saw a cloaked figure stepping through the small ray of light as she had moments before. The figure was hurrying, its cloak held tightly to its side. Panic gripped her, and all thoughts of caution were forgotten. She began to run. Faster and faster she flew, trying to close the gap between her and freedom. She didn't look back again, all of her attention was on running.

The heels of her shoes made her stumble as they caught in the pitted surface. Several times she came close to falling. The only thing that kept her upright was knowing that if she fell, she would die. Relief rippled through her as she came to the end of the alley. She burst from it into the cold glow of the street lights that shone off of her method of escape.

Quickly, she covered the last few feet to her car, opening her purse and frantically searching for her keys. Stuff flew out as she pulled and discarded it in impatience. An animilistic sound of triumph escaped her when her fingers finally found the keys. Unlocking the car door, she whispered a prayer in Italian. Her thank you to God was her last thought as the world exploded into a wall of fire and a twisted mass of burning metal.

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Ray groaned when the phone by his bed rang. Grumpily, he pulled his pillow over his head and rolled away, trying to ignore it. The noise was persistant, however, the shrill tone seeming to stab into his skull. At about the tenth ring, Ray gave in and reached one long arm across the bed to the bedstand.

"Do y'know what time 'tis?" he mumbled.

"Vecchio, it's Welsh."

This jolted Ray the rest of the way awake. He dug the heel of his hand into his eyes, trying to drive their bleeriness away.

"Sir? What is it?"

"We have a problem."

Ray could hear the reluctance in his voice, and it caused a shiver to dance down his spine.

"A problem?"

"Yes. I need you at the station right away."

The shiver turned into a chill, and Ray's stomach clenched. Was it Fraser? It had to be Fraser. What if Fraser was hurt?

"Be right there."

Ray slammed down the phone and hurried to find some clothes. His mind and his heart were both racing, and he prayed that circumstances weren't as bad as the tone in Welsh's voice had indicated.

As he rushed to the station, awful things filled his mind. Fed on the tone of Lt. Welsh's voice, the pictures were particularly gruesome, and most revolved around Fraser. The streets seemed to fly by as Ray drove even faster than usual to get to the station. He rushed into the bullpen, unconsciously noting the dimmed lights that characterized the night shift. Huey and Dewey were working quietly, but the rest of the station was devoid of life--except for the light shining from Lt. Welsh's office.

Hearing the door, both Huey and Dewey looked up, their faces paling.

"Ray...Ray, I'm sorry," Jack whispered.

Tom couldn't even look him in the eye. That was all Ray needed to confirm that the news was all bad.

He hurried past them without acknowledgement, not even pausing to knock on the lieutenant's door. As he entered, Welsh and another man turned. A man with spikey blond hair and red rimmed blue eyes. Shit! Kowalski was crying.

"What is it?" Ray demanded. "What happened?"

"There's no easy way to say this. There's been an accident..."Welsh started. Kowalski butt in, "Frannie's dead."

All sensation fled Ray's body as he felt his breath leave him. It was as if someone else were speaking as he gasped, "Frannie?"

Of all the things he had been prepared for, this was not one of them. His sister was supposed to be at her friend Janice's, all safe and asleep. Frannie could not be dead.

A million images tumbled through his mind. He saw Frannie in all the stages of her life--as a baby, as a precocious child, as a wild teenager, as a scatterbrained adult, as the competent civilian aide she'd learned to be when she found out she could depend on herself.

The jumble of thoughts were interupted by Welsh's scratchy voice. Ray realized that he too had been crying. "About two hours ago, your sister's car exploded. Apparently, someone rigged it to explode when the door was opened. The Feds found enough to identify her and her car."

"They're sure..."

Welsh nodded. "It was her, Vecchio."

Suddenly, Ray's legs refused to hold him up. He stumbled to the couch and sat heavily before he fell over. Wide eyed, he looked from Welsh to Kowalski. The two of them looked sad, defeated.

"Are there any leads?"

"No, not yet. The FBI are working on this with the 29th..."

"The 29th?"

"She was found on their turf, and I was told that we had to stay out of it...officially."

"But...But, she's my sister."

Lt. Welsh held up a finger. "I said officially. That doesn't prevent anyone from, say, walking along John's Street to look at the accident site, or from going through his sister's personal effects. That's about the best I can do."

Ray nodded numbly. Another knife stabbed into his gut as he thought of his next chore.

Oh, God! How am I going to tell Ma?


	2. Chapter 1, One Year Later

Frannie's Lament

by Tanya Reed

I just realized that this story hasn't been published anywhere on the web; it's only been circulated on a mailing list, so it will probably be new to you. It may take longer to put up than the others because, besides the first two or three chapters, it's still only in handwritten form.

Thanks to everyone who's survived the turbulant first chapter and has decided to maybe check out the second.

Disclaimer: Due South still isn't mine, darnit!

P.S. The first scene, the one with Ray and Ma, is the one I dreamed so long ago that started this whole thing.

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One Year Later

Ray Vecchio entered his kitchen early that morning, a yawn distorting his face. He had recently changed out of his pajamas but he still had a rumpled, sleepy look.

Running a hand over his face, he made his way to the coffee maker, reflecting on how quiet the house was. Since Maria and Tony had moved over a month before, the laughter and joy seemed to have seeped out after them. Where once children would have been fighting him for the counter or the bathroom, there was now only empty, lonely space.

A sigh escaped him as he automatically plunked two pieces of bread into the toaster. The thought of the other reason his house was so lifeless came back to haunt him as it had ever day for the past year.

Frannie. Even now, Ray could hardly believe that she was gone. Without her sparkle, his house felt like some sort of discarded Christmas tree.

His chest tightened as his mind went to his days as Armando Langoustini. The whole time only three thrings had gotten him through--Fraser's friendship, his Ma's love, and Frannie's smile. He used to stay up nights thinking about them as children, and the memories of some of their pranks were the only things that could make him smile. He had been so homesick then, and all he dreamed about was coming home. When he did come home, it was only for a couple of weeks before taking off to Florida with that witch in angel's clothing. After two months, he was back home again and Frannie had been there to welcome him with open arms and a smile--and no 'I told you sos', which would have been his first words to her. Being away from Frannie had taught him to both miss and appreciate her, and he was not quite through lavishing her with all the love and attention he should have been giving her her whole life when...

An image came into Ray's mind, so strong it overwhelmed him. He cringed as he saw the car explode as he did in his dreams at night. It had taken only a second to extinguish the brightest light in his life.

Ray started eating his toast, though it tasted like gravel, and pushed the thoughts of his sister's killer still being free from his mind. Behind him, he heard the only other occupant of the house bustle into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Raymundo," she said cheerily, going to the refrigerator.

Ray turned and watched her, the knot in his stomach tightening. "Good morning, Ma."

She turned around smiling, eggs in her hands. "Why such a sad face, Caro? It's a beautiful day. I mean, just look at that sun. And the children are supposed to come over to play today. We're going for a walk in the park. The sun should make you happy...Besides, today could be the day."

Suddenly, Ray felt very tired. Every day it was the same thing. His Ma would get up and tell him that maybe it would be today. For some reason, she just didn't seem to understand that Frannie wasn't coming home. Ever.

"It won't be today, Ma." He took a gulp of his coffee to stop his shaking hands.

"You never know. It might be."

"She's not coming."

"Sure she will, and you'll have to apologize for what you're thinking."

"No." Anger welled up in Ray. He could not stand the denial anymore. "Frannie's not coming home. You have to face it."

"She will come home to us, and she will be happy and brown from the sun or full of facts about the old country. When she comes back from vacation, you will see..."

Unable to deal with his anger and lack of sleep, Ray snapped, "Frannie's not on vacation, Ma, and you know it! Frannie's dead. Dead."

Ma shook her head sadly. "My Frannie is not dead. She is still out there. Somewhere."

Seeing the look on his mother's face, Ray's anger quickly turned to pity. "All right, Ma. I'm sorry. Maybe it will be today. Call me if she comes."

Their argument always ended like this because Ray couldn't stand to break his mother's heart. Feeling awful, but comfortable with the familiarity of the feeling, Ray left the rest of his toast and coffee, strapped on his gun, and left for work.

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Both Rays were waiting for him when he arrived at the station. Fraser studied them as he approached their desks. Kowalski was leaned back, doing some sort of balancing act with his chair and chewing a wad of gum like it was cud. Vecchio was slumped over, his head leaning on his left hand, a pencil tapping in his right. They both looked exhausted, with black rings around their eyes and an air of defeat around their bodies. He knew what that must mean--another dead end.

"Good morning, Ray. Ray." He nodded at each of them. Kowalski dropped his chair with a bang, pushing a hand through his unruly hair.

"Mornin', Frase," he answered with forced cheerfulness. "It's been a little slow, so we were pursuing that new lead." He gestured towards Vecchio, who sat up straighter.

Even though Ben could tell the answer, he asked, "Anything?"

"No, nothing. It's as if the guy who killed Frannie doesn't even exist."

"I been tellin' him not to stress it. We'll find him--we've got to," Kowalski informed Fraser, who agreed.

"I'm sure you're right, Ray."

At their words, Vecchio gave a disgusted snort and got up, slamming his chair backwards onto the floor. Kowalski jumped, nearly tumbling from his chair, and Ben winced as the sound jangled along his nerves. Concern made him want to speak soothing words, but he knew nothing he could say would do any good.

"This is crazy. My sister's dead, and her murderer is out there, free as a bird."

Kowalski, used to his partner's frequent outbursts, said softly, "Calm down, man. We're all still angry about the fact that Frannie's case was closed unsolved. Bein' upset ain't going to bring her back."

"Upset? Of course, I'm upset!" He violently punched the filing cabinet beside him, turning his back on his friends. "I must have arrested hundreds of criminals--I went undercover with the mob and survived for Christ's sake--and I can't even find the bastard who murdered my sister!"

Silence followed this declaration as every eye in the busy squadroom turned in his direction. Kowalski glared at the gawkers, forcing them to look away. Ben came forward and gently placed his hand on Vecchio's arm.

"I feel so helpless, Benny."

Fraser nodded in understanding, letting his own helplessness show in his face for a moment. He understood what Ray was going through more than he could put into words. It was almost inconcievable to him that he had been searching for a criminal for almost a year and come up with nothing. The guilt of having failed not only Ray but Francesca weighed heavily on him. She had been a sister to him throughout all the both hard and joyful times he had experienced since moving to Chicago. Her death had ripped a ragged chunk out of his soul, and he would do anything to catch the monster who took her life.

A glint came to Kowalski's eyes, and he said fiercely, "Oh, we'll find him, buddy, and when we do..."

Fraser knew that Kowalski cared for Frannie as much as he did, first as a sister and then as something considerably more. He also knew that Ray had been working up the courage to tell her right before her life was so cruelly cut short. Now, he would never get the chance.

"Vecchio! Kowalski!" came a bellow from the direction of Welsh's office. Vecchio turned and the two Rays shared a look. He did not sound pleased, and all three men wondered what they had done this time.

----------------------------------------------------

"A vacation. He wants us to take a vacation!" Vecchio was still complaining when Kowalski's GTO stopped in front of the Consulate a half hour later.

Kowalski, who was driving, grunted in agreement. "He says we're working too hard. Yeah, right. More like he thinks we're harpin' on the Frannie thing."

"How can he forbid us to work on it? Who does he think he is, God?"

"I'm sure if you contemplate his situation, you will see that it must seem to him as if we are spending too much of our working time on a closed case," Ben said from the back seat. "He does have a point."

He said the words, but he didn't believe them. Twenty four hours a day would not be too much time to spend on trying to find his friend's killer.

"I'd like to see his reaction if it was his sister."

"And how would that affect our vacation time?" Kowalski asked.

Ben looked at Vecchio's drawn and tired face. "Maybe he is concerned for our well being."

Then he went to get out of the car, hesitating before turning the handle. "Will you be all right, Ray?"

Vecchio waved a hand in an impatient gesture. "Go to work, Benny. Ray and I will go for a coffee or something. I might even pay for his Smarties."

Ben then looked to Kowalski, who gave him a little nod. Satisfied that his friends would be okay, he got out of the car and approached the Consulate. Behind him, he could hear the tires of the GTO squeal as Ray drove away.

The man standing sentry was a young red head with an abundance of freckles. Ben felt a twinge of sadness at seeing him, admitting to himself that he actually missed Turnbull. It had only been a few months since Renfield had left the force to enter politics in his native Nova Scotia, and the Consulate was quiet without him. It was not that this new constable was incompetant. In fact, he was likeable and efficient. He just didn't seem to have the joy of life that Fraser didn't even realize that he admired in Turnbull.

Inside the Consulate, Ben passed his superior officer's door and his sense of sadness deepened. Things were changing and he didn't much like change. One by one, the people he cared about were disappearing form his life, leaving empty spots inside of him. First the Inspector, then Francesca, and now Turnbull. It was as if the heavens were playing some joke on him--now that he had finally given in and opened himself to people, they were being brutally ripped away from him.

As he headed towards his office, a voice stopped him and he turned.

"Benton?"

"Yes, sir?"

Some of Ben's sadness melted away as he regarded Sargeant Frobisher. Not everyone was being stolen from his life. He had the Rays, and he had the man who had been even closer than his own father to guide his footsteps and share his duties. He didn't know why he had been so lucky as to have Buck appointed as head of the Consulate, but he had a feeling Inspector Thatcher had something to do with it. The Sargeant had spoken warmly of a meeting they had before his arrival, though he wouldn't say what was said.

"I need to talk to you a minute. Would you come into my office?"

"Certainly, sir."

He followed Buck inside, closing the door because he knew Dan was off sentry in about five

minutes. Buck moved slowly, limping slightly, around the desk to sit down. He waited until Ben had come to rest in front of it, steepling his fingers and looking up with youthful but sharp blue eyes.

"Benton, do you know who Andrew Wilson is?"

Running a thumb over his eyebrow, he answered in puzzlement, "No, I don't believe I do, sir."

"He was a Canadian diplomat--a great Canadian diplomat."

"Was?"

"Yes. He died yesterday."

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir."

"Don't be. I didn't know him." Buck pushed his comment aside. "The important thing is they're looking for Mounties to serve as pall bearers. You have been chosen."

"Me?" Ben could hardly keep his surprise from showing.

"Yes. This is a great honour, Benton."

Fraser nodded, studying his old friend's face and eyes. He saw concern there, though Buck was trying to hide it. Like Welsh, the sargeant must think that they had been working too hard on a closed case.

"When do I leave for Canada, sir?"

"No, not Canada, son. England. Wilson died while visiting our queen."

"England?" This time his surprise did show. "How long will I be there?"

"About a week. Good luck. Dismissed."

"Thank you, sir."

Leaving Buck's office, Ben felt both a sense of relief and a sense of dread. Both feelings were emenating from the same source; on one hand he welcomed the time away from Frannie's case, but on the other he was afraid something would be missed while he was away. He remembered then that his friends were also going to be away from their desks and wondered if this was coincidence. Either way, it was an easy decision to ask for their accompaniment, and maybe together they could finally let Frannie's memory rest in peace.

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Ben's first impression of England when they touched down nearly twenty-four hours later was that its airports were insane. The noise had been almost deafening, with people running back and forth like they were in some sort of maze. Vecchio had insisted on navigating through the busy airport, claiming that Kowalski couldn't even find his glasses most of the time. It turned out that his sense of direction wasn't much better as they were lost at least three times before Ben gratefully saw the man in black holding a sign that said "Fraser".

The man turned out to be the chauffeur of someone called Scott Lawrence. Lawrence was a friend of Wilson's and, as such, had volunteered to pick up the Mountie and his companions at the airport. The chauffeur was confident, navigating the same halls they had such trouble with with ease and grace. In no time at all, he had them ensconced in the back of his limo, their luggage in the trunk.

As they pulled away from the airport, both Rays looking out on the scenery with curiosity, Ben's thoughts returned to when they had been on the plane. He had had a lot of time to think, with one Ray sleeping and the other playing some sort of hand held computer game. His mind mulled over the last year, the shock of Francesca's death and the echoes of it that followed them every day. Even in the beginning, the leads had been scarce. Still they had followed them one by one, but in the end they came up with nothing. Thier final trail had ended just the day before.

Ben looked at the faces of his friends now as he had on the plane. They needed this vacation--the three of them. He hoped that in the end it would give them a new perspective to continue or, if needed, the strength to move on.

As the limo went on, Kowalski's eyes began to glow. Out of one of his pockets came a small guide book, which he had purchased on one of their wrong turns in the airport. Apparently, he had always wanted to tour the United Kingdom because of some movie he had seen as a child. Vecchio listened to him patiently, nodding in all the right places. There was a comfortably relaxed set to his shoulders that he had been lacking for a long time. It seemed like just having new scenery had revitalized him. Leaning back, Ben listened to their voices fondly, trying to give his own mind a rest.

"Hey, look, Vecchio, is that St. Paul's Cathedral?"

"No, I don't think so."

And then a moment later, "Well, that's got to be one of those museums."

"That's a bed and breakfast."

"Oh, and there's the Canadian Con...no, it's not. That's in Trafalgar Square."

Ben opened one eye to see Vecchio lean forward and snatch the guidebook. "Let me see that. Look, you're not even in the right place." He flipped a couple of pages then handed it back before taking a small bag out of his pocket. "It's too bad we couldn't have brought Dief. I know how much he likes in-flight peanuts." He grinned at Ben, showing that he remembered the last plane ride they took together.

"I'm sure he is getting plenty of salt and sugar as it is, Ray."

Kowalski laughed. "I'll bet. Ma and Elaine are probably shoving cookies down his throat right about now."

"And he's enjoying every minute of it," Vecchio said, then a little of the new sparkle went from his eyes. "It was nice of Elaine to offer to stay with Ma."

"She always did take good care a us," This time Kowalski's cheer was slightly forced. "It's great ta have her back at Division. You need people you can count on."

Ben sighed. "Dief is going to need a strict diet when we get home."

"Oh, leave him alone, Benny." The sparkle was back. "We all need to enjoy ourselves once in awhile." As he said this, their car pulled up to a very large house with an iron gate along the front. All talking stopped for a moment as the three men looked at each other in puzzlement.

"Where're we?"

"This isn't the hostel we were expecting."

"Excuse me, sir. Has there been some mistake?"

The driver turned, his smile friendly. "I'm sorry. I should have mentioned this earlier. You are the last to arrive and the hostel provided is full. Mr. Lawrence has offered the use of his house until after the service."

Vecchio's eyes widened in surprise as he said, "Hey, no arguments from me, buddy. I could stand a little luxury."

They climbed out, impressed when people came out of the house to take their bags. An elderly gentleman followed them, dressed in a brown silk suit and smiling.

"You must be Constable Fraser," he said warmly, offering his hand.

"Yes, sir," Ben answered politely. "And these are my friends Ray Kowalski and Ray Vecchio."

The man shook their hands as well, continuing, "Pleased to meet you, gentlemen. Come into my home and make yourself comfortable."

As they entered an elegant foyer, Ben heard Vecchio whisper to Kowalski, "You know, this trip might not be so bad after all."


	3. Chapter 2

Frannie's Lament

by Tanya Reed

Disclaimer: I do not own Due South or its characters, and I am not making any profit off of this story.

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It was on their third day in England that they returned from a morning of prowling fog covered, ancient streets and riding double decker buses to find an unknown car in their host's driveway. It immediately caught the attention of the Rays because it was an American classic. Ben smiled slightly as he saw their faces light up like children on Christmas morning. They eagerly bounded over to it, each taking a side, and gently touched admiring hands to the hood.

"Lookit the lines on that baby."

"Oh, yeah. If I wasn't a Riv man..."

It took several minutes of drooling over the vintage automobile before they were satisfied enough to go in and check out the owner. As they approached the door, a young woman came out. She was very pretty, lithe with long dark hair and laughing green eyes. She smiled at them shyly as she passed and Vecchio turned to watch her departing movements.

As soon as she was out of earshot, he commented, "Now that is one fine looking woman."

"C'mon,Vecchio, she's not your type. You like 'em blond, 'member?"

Vecchio rolled his eyes. "You're never gonna let me forget that, are you? Listen, Stella was a mistake. I know she was a mistake. Can we move on?"

Ben just shook his head patiently as the two Rays descended into a familiar argument. He opened the door for his friends to enter, and then followed them inside. Their friendly bickering stopped when they saw Mr. Lawrence talking to a guest in the foyer. The Americans both smiled in embarassed apology for interupting, and Vecchio said a friendly, "Hi, man. Nice car."

Mr. Lawrence's face broke into a grin and he said heartily, "Hello, gentlemen. Come in and meet my friend, Mario Williams. Mario, these are the men I was telling you about--Ben Fraser, Ray Vecchio, and Ray Kowalski."

"Nice to meet you," Williams said warmly. Ben guessed him to be an American from the southern region of California.

As Williams stepped forward to shake hands with Ray and Ray, Fraser quickly studied him. He was a small, dark, middle aged man with non-descript features. His clothes were obviously well made and expensive, and he gave off an air of money. The smile he gave was as warm as his voice, but the warmth didn't quite reach his eyes.

At his turn to shake the man's hand, Ben noted that he had a firm grip, one that said he was sure of himself. "Pleased to meet you, sir."

"And I you."

"Mario was just leaving," Lawrence informed them, "But I'm glad he got to meet you."

"So am I," Mario agreed, "And I'd like to speak with you further. Scott is going to be visiting me after tomorrow's service. You're welcome to join him."

"Us?" Kowalski asked incredulously.

"Yes, please do. I grew up around Chicago and would love to hear stories of home."

"No problem," Vecchio grinned. "That is, if it's all right with you, Mr. Lawrence."

"Of course it is. I love spending time with you gentlemen. It makes me feel young again."

Ben listened to them absentmindedly as they small talked for several minutes. Most of his mind was lost in puzzlement. How could he have gotten Mr. Williams's place of origin so wrong?

After the pleasantries were over and Mr. Lawrence was accompanying Mr. Williams to his car, Ben and his friends went upstairs to his room. Kowalski had rented a James Bond movie--a character Ben had come to know through his grandmother's library even though he had never seen a film version--and was looking forward to seeing it. Vecchio often grumbled that he had gotten enough excitement while he was under cover for two years and preferred horror, but for once he hadn't complained.

The three of them got comfortable in Ben's huge room, the two Rays settling in on the silk comforter and Ben taking up residence in a nearby well-padded chair.

Looking around, Vecchio sighed heavily. "Well, I guess it's off to the bed and breakfast tomorrow, guys. I'm gonna miss all this comfort."

"Yeah. A guy could get used ta this," Kowalski agreed burrowing deeper into the soft bed.

"That he could."

"Would you two stop whining?" Ben asked good naturedly. "You're worse than Diefenbaker."

Both Rays gave a snort, and Ben shook his head, rising to put the tape in the VCR.

"Actually," Vecchio admitted grudgingly a few moments later, "It's been quite a good vacation. Relaxing."

"Takin' in da sights my good buddy James grew up on."

"Yes, I will admit, it has been rather calm and uneventful. Despite the sombre circumstances, I'm glad we came."

The opening advertisements started on the movie, so Ben hardly heard Vecchio whisper, "But what are we gonna do when we get home?"

That was an extremely good question. They had exhausted every lead and were still no closer, so what were they going to do? They had two choices, to quit or to go on. Both would be difficult to do and impact those around them. Here in another country, it seemed so simple, but in Chicago they would be surrounded by reminders of their failure. And there was Ma.

Ben could not keep his mind on the opening Bond stunt as he thought of the woman who had adopted him as one of her own. She met each day with the firm belief that her youngest child would be coming through the door at any minute. It hurt to see her like that, and it hurt even more to see Ray have to deal with it day after day.

"Look at that, Frase. Ain't it cool?" Kowalski's excited voice brought Ben back to the present.

He filed all of his negative feelings away far back in his mind to look at later. Even so, it was a sad Mountie who tried to live in the moment and enjoy the show.

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"Is my lanyard straight?" Ben asked for about the third time that morning, this time asking Kowalski.

Ray sighed. "Ya asked Vecchio thirty times already. What'd he say?"

"No need to be snappish, Ray. I'm just trying to look my best for the services."

The truth was, the Mountie looked nervous. If Ray hadn't found it so annoying, he would have been amused. Sometimes Fraser could be one of the most irritating men on the planet. Plus, Ray wasn't too happy that Vecchio had deserted him some time before, leaving him to deal with the nervous Mountie on his own.

"Well, ya look fine, buddy. Perfection."

"Do you think so?" Fraser turned back to the mirror, scrutinizing his reflection.

"Yer actin' as if the queen will be there. It's just a funeral."

"She will be, Ray."

"She will?" Ray's eyes widened. "Too bad Turnbull couldna been here. It would have made his life."

"True." After one last pensive rub of his eyebrow, Fraser nodded to himself in the mirror. "I'm ready."

"Good. Now get goin'."

"Are you sure I can't persuade you..."

"I wasn't invited. 'Member?"

Ray got behind him and gave a gentle push. The Mountie moved with the momentum, going down the hall towards the stairs. On their way, Ray saw Vecchio chatting up that Andrea girl that he found so attractive. Both of them were smiling widely and it looked as if the girl were blushing.

"Great," Ray muttered, steering Fraser down the stairs.

"Pardon?"

"Nothin'. If you don't hurry, you're going to be late. What kind of Mountie image would that be?"

"You're absolutely right, Ray," Fraser agreed, finally moving on his own. It was so quick, Ray stumbled and almost fell down the stairs. "Careful." Fraser caught Ray and steadied him before hurrying on.

Ray followed more slowly, watching as his friend joined a somberly dressed Mr. Lawrence in the foyer. The two of them spoke, and then Ben turned to give Ray a little wave. He waved back and stood there on the steps as the Canadian and the Englishman left.

"What am I gonna do now?" he grumbled, thinking about the uneventful afternoon to come. he supposed he could go back upstairs and get Vecchio and asked him if he wanted to do anything, but the Italian had looked quite busy flirting with Andrea.

"This sucks."

With a sigh, he finished his journey down to the foyer and grabbed his jacket from a nearby closet. Nobody would notice if he went out for awhile, and he was feeling edgy. Uneasy.

He reflected on this as he passed nice, neat houses. His ears heard children chattering and laughing somewhere nearby but his mind didn't register the sound. All he could see and hear were the warning signs in his head. Something was going to happen. He wasn't sure if it was going to be good or bad, just that it was coming. His instincts were practically screaming it, and his instincts were rarely wrong.

He stopped for a minute with his eyes closed, listening to the feeling in his gut. For the first time, he felt the breeze on his skin as it kissed his face and rustled his jacket. Oh, yeah. Definitely something. So much for a calm, uneventful vacation.

Opening his eyes, Ray took the sunglasses out of the pocket in his shirt. He grinned evilly as he slipped them on, thinking, _All right. Bring it on_.

Still wearing the smile, he listened as his stomach said something else. He wondered how far he was from a place that sold fish and chips; he had never been that fond of the dish at home, but there seemed to be something in the UK air that made it delicious. And besides, if they were going to once again face earth shattering events, the least he could do was face them with a full stomach. His stomach agreed.

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The butler that met them at the door led Kowalski and his companions through the hallways of a huge and sombre looking manor. Ray didn't think that he'd ever seen a house so big, but Vecchio and Fraser hadn't even blinked when they were led inside. Everywhere around them was tasteful beauty and rich elegance. Ray knew his mouth must be hanging open, but he couldn't help it. The place must have cost a bundle!

"Wait here," the stiffly polite butler ordered coldly before going into one of the rooms.

Kowalski studied the carving adorning the door and was quite impressed with the details in the little pictures. He had tried whittling once when he was a kid, and he'd been just horrible at it, so he could appreciate the effort involved in obtaining this much skill. He looked closer and noticed that the pictures weren't just men on horseback. The had guns, and dogs bounded at their feet. Here and there, another animal slipped through the picture, usually hidden by a bush or a tree.

Ray was so intent on what was going on on the door that he didn't notice it opening. The only thing that saved him from getting a sound smack on the forehead was Vecchio roughly shoving him away just in time.

"Thanks."

"Welcome."

"Mr. Williams will see you now."

The three men entered a very ornate study where Mr. Willaims and Mr. Lawrence, who had arrived earlier, were talking. The study was lined with books, most of them very old, and Ray couldn't remember ever seeing so many outside of a library. Colors of burgandy and navy dominated the room, making it dark but comfortable. An antique writing desk stood against one wall, huge and as intricately carved as the door had been. Six expensive and pretentious chairs were scattered around the room, two of them very close to the unlit fireplace. Williams and Lawrence sat in these, one smoking a pipe and the other drinking what looked like coffee.

"Hello. I was wondering when you'd get here," Williams smiled. "Please, have a seat. Would you like some brandy?"

"No, thank you, sir," Fraser declined.

Kowalski and Vecchio, however, chorused, "Yeah, sure."

Instead of calling the butler in, which Ray half expected, Williams got up and poured the drinks himself.

"Are you sure I can't get you anything, Constable Fraser?"

"Quite sure, thank you."

With a nod, Williams sat back donw. "Now tell me a little about yourselves. Isn't it unusual to have a Canadian police officer working with two American cops?"

"Well, you see, sir," Ben stated, rubbing a thumb along his eyebrow, and causing Kowalski to think, _Oh, no, not again_. "I first went to Chicago on the trail of my father's killers, and for reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture, I've remained attached to the Canadian Consulate..."

"And to make a long story short--we don't want to be here listening for two hours, Benny--he decided to help me with some of my cases. Eventually, everyone got used to it, and it became sort of semi-official--part of his duties as Deputy Liason Officer," Vecchio explained.

Ray added, "I came in later. Vecchio went undercover and I took his place. When he came back, I remained 'attached', as Fraser calls it, to the 27th."

"And so now we work as a team," Ben finished.

"That's an interesting tale. How long have you been together?"

Vecchio sighed in mock resignation. "A very, very long time."

This caused Ray to chuckle, almost choking on his brandy. "It just seems long with the Mountie."

"Ray, Ray, please." Fraser looked slightly embarrassed.

"Just teasin', buddy."

"Are the three of you going to be staying with Scott for your whole vacation?"

"Actually, Mr. Williams," Fraser answered, "We have decided to rent rooms in a bed and breakfast so we can get out of the city. I was hoping to see some of the countryside. What we've seen so far is lovely."

"There are some great sights out here. Which reminds me, I have some sandwiches prepared. I will be getting my Italian princess to bring them in for us."

"Your Italian princess?" Ray asked, eyes widening.

Mr. Lawrence laughed. "He loves to show her off. She's not really a princess, but she's lovely enough to be."

"Looking's allowed, but no touching." Then Williams pressed a button on the intercom he kept on a table next to his chair. "Thomas, is Renata ready yet?"

"Yes, sir. She's just waiting on your pleasure."

"Then tell her it pleases me now."

"Yes, sir."

They were deep in conversation about the differences between the United States and England five minutes later when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in, my dear." As the door opened, he continued, "Gentlemen, may I introduce you to Renata Mancini, my Italian princess."

A woman backed into the room, saying something in what Ray guessed was Italian. She had shoulder length hair the color of rich chocolate pudding and a small but curvacious form. Her black skirt stopped quite short of her knees, and her blue silk blouse clung to her lithe body. Kowalski allowed himself to enjoy the view, watching the way her body moved as she wheeled the tray. He wondered idly if she looked as good from the front, then figured she probably did if he judged by the older men's praise. As he was thinking this, Renata turned, a playful grin on her dark face.

Ray's heart stopped.

Quickly, his eyes went over the young woman as he heard Vecchio gasp beside him. Every feature was familiar; he knew them in his heart and in his soul. He pushed the surprise from his face with effort, hoping that it hadn't been seen. As he tried to meet her eyes, he even managed to make his heart start beating again.

A defeaning roar filled his mind, trying to drown his thoughts. It wanted him to scream or cry or faint--anything to acknowledge the sight in front of him.

Renata's smile dropped momentarily from her face and a brief look of recognition replaced it. The recognition was gone so fast, Ray could almost make himself believe he'd imagined it. In its place, was a look of polite interest.

Beside him, Ray heard the ice tinkle loudly in Vecchio's glass, as if his body had suffered a severe jolt. On his other side, Fraser shifted in his chair as if he were uncomfortable. Ray knew the emotions going through him had to be going through them as well.

If their host noticed anything, nothing in his manner betrayed it as he said, "I want to introduce you to my guests."

"All right," The voice was heavily accented but, even so, Kowalski couldn't figure out how he hadn't recognized it at once.

She came over to shake their hands and Williams introduced them one by one. When she got to Kowalski, he could see the pleading in her eyes. A shiver went up his spine, and he knew that in this house she was in danger. He answered her look with a nod no one else could see and took her small hand in his own. Electric fire went through him as skin met skin, and there was no longer any doubt. He would know her anywhere.

"That's all I needed you for, darling. You can go back to playing with my assistant now. I have no idea what they're up to all day." This he said to his guests," But they've always got their heads together."

"Okay, Mario," she said sweetly, "See you later, my love." Then she kissed Williams in a gesture that almost broke Kowalski's heart.

Williams leered after her retreating form. "See, I told you she was a princess."

Princess or not, Ray knew that she was the something his gut had been warning him about. Of all the impossibilities that Ray could have imagined, this was the most impossible. He turned his gaze on Vecchio and Fraser, who looked to be as shell shocked as he was. The same question had to be ringing in all of their minds.

What do you do when reality turns upside down?


	4. Chapter 3

Frannie's Lament

by Tanya Reed

Thanks Britduck for the review.

Disclaimer: Due South belongs to someone other than me.

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The woman known as Renata Mancini hurried through the puzzling network of hallways and lavish rooms. Her mind was whirling and her palms were sweaty. Had he known? Could Mario see her reaction when she looked upon the faces of his guests? If he had, how had he interpreted it? All she knew was that her life depended on the answers.

She was confused. Very confused. For the first time, she started to have doubts about what she had done. Not knowing what else to do, she set out in search of the one person who might be able to help her with her fears. Ironically, Renata was so deep in her thoughts that she almost missed the person she was seeking as the other woman hurried by.

Looking up, she just caught a flurry of dark hair and glasses as her friend rushed past.

"Angelique," she squeaked.

The slim French woman turned and raised an eyebrow. Renata noticed that she looked as neat and businesslike as usual, and had somehow managed to accentuate her best features without making it obvious she was trying to do so. Mario liked pretty women.

"Can I see you a minute?"

Angelique's eyes narrowed and she studied Renata. After thinking for what seemed like far too long, she gave a sharp nod. The Italian didn't know why Angelique had hesitated. The two of them were together enough that their talking would not seem suspicious.

"Certainly. I was just going for a walk in the east garden. Would you care to join me?"

"I'd like that. I've been inside all day."

The two of them hurried to a side door and then out into the sunshine. They were silent as they moved away from the house, but Renata could see the curiosity in Angelique's eyes.

When they were what Angelique considered far enough away from the house, she hissed, "What is it?"

"We have a problem."

"I guessed that much, Renata," she stressed the given name.

"A couple of old friends showed up."

"Old friends?"

"A blond guy, a bald guy, and a Canadian."

Angelique's reaction to this news was startling. Her calm, collected air dropped away as her already pale skin turned the color of paper. Delicate hands began to tremble and dark eyes widened in shock. She looked thoroughly shaken, and Renata had to stop herself from reaching out to steady her. She would not be thanked for that.

"Here?" She choked out. "They're here?"

Renata nodded. "And they saw me. They hid their surprise and so did I, but Mario might have seen something."

It only took a moment for color to come back to Angelique's face. Her voice was sharp as she swore, "Damn him. I'm on another continent and he's still screwing me up."

She brought up a hand to stroke her forehead, stoicism once more coming to her features. Renata could almost see the wheels starting to turn inside her head, and seeing Angelique's no-nonsense reasoning come into effect had an amazing impact on Renata's fear.

"Well, we're definitely going to have to deal with them now. They're all too nosy for their own good. Fraser, especially, cannot leave a mystery alone."

The French woman then began to pace, her strides short and clipped, as if that would help her think.

"I'm more worried about Ray," Renata answered, surprised at how calm she herself sounded. "He's going to have questions and he won't leave it alone til he gets answers."

"Yes," Angelique stopped and nodded. "Vecchio was always stubborn and pigheaded."

"You don't have to tell me. What a mess!"

Her companion bit her lip thoughtfully before suggesting, "Maybe we should try to get a message out. We have to keep them safe."

Fear shot through Renata once more as she realized that she and Angelique weren't the only ones in danger. They had been living on a knife's edge and, if this were the thing to cut them, the men could suffer too.

"Do you think Mario would kill them?"

"If he knew? In a heartbeat."

"You're right." The Italian let out a whispered prayer, then demanded, "So, how? Harvey?"

Angelique nodded. "We'll have to. He's the only one of us allowed to come and go as he pleases. How do you feel about going riding this afternoon, Miss Mancini?"

"I hate horses," she growled, "But I'll be there." Then, after a pause, "Ray is going to kill me, you know."

With a sardonic smile, Angelique placed a hand on her shoulder. She squeezed supportively, answering, "You forget, my dear, you're already dead."

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They had done well, Ben noted as the three of them gathered in a room that was less extravagant but more comfortable than the one of the night before. They had managed to stay for two hours at Mr. William's house without betraying their thoughts, and then they had gone back to Mr. Lawrence's and quietly packed their things. They had remained mostly silent, conscious of every word that did pass between them.

As soon as they entered Ben's room at the bed and breakfast, the spell was broken.

"It was her!" Kowalski exploded before the door was even completely closed.

"I don't believe it," Vecchio stormed at the same time.

"Then you both agree that the person we saw was Francesca?"

The Ray's each ran a hand over their respective heads in an identical gesture. Green and blue eyes turned on the Mountie, the emotion in their depths unreadable.

"What is she doing here, Benny? She's supposed to be dead."

Kowalski started to pace, and Fraser ran a thumb over his eyebrow. He thought a minute before replying, "I don't know."

"And she's in trouble. You both saw that, didn't you?"

"We've got to get her out of there!" was Kowalski's answer.

"I don't think we should do that, Ray."

"Huh?" He stopped pacing and stared at Fraser.

"Think about it. If we go in without knowing all the pertinant facts, we could be putting Francesca in even more danger."

"You're talking about the five p's again, aren't you, buddy?"

"Five peas?" Vecchio was incredulous. "What do peas have to do with anything?"

Kowalski looked at Vecchio and ticked the words off on his left hand. "Proper. Preparation. Prevents. Poor. Performance."

Ben was slightly astonished that Ray had remembered the lesson he taught him so long ago. "That's right, Ray."

"Meaning," Vecchio translated, "If we know what's going on first, we won't screw up."

"Exactly."

"Well, how do we do that?"

Kowalski started pacing again. After a moment, he announced, "Williams did say he wanted to see us again."

"Yes, he did!" Vecchio's green eyes began to glow. "And I think tomorrow we should call and make an appointment."

Ben thought that was a very fine idea.

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"Where is that woman?" Angelique Marceau, also known as Meg Thatcher, heard Mario's voice booming from his office. Around outsiders, and Frannie most of the time, he presented himself as a friendly older man with an appetite for brandy and young women. Most of this was an act, however, and his employees knew another side of him--one they didn't want to anger.

She picked up her steps, knowing he'd probably not get physical with her, but not willing to risk it.

"She's never around when I need her, Thomas!"

As he said this, she rushed through the door, trying to make it look as if she hadn't rushed.

"Were you looking for me, sir?"

"Angelique, where the hell have you been?" His words were snapped at her like a physical blow.

Meg forced her face into a placating expression. "I went riding. You told me not to bother you this afternoon."

"That was this afternoon. It's six o'clock!"

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Well, you should be." The glare from his eyes could have frozen blood. "Please leave us alone, Thomas."

The butler bowed sedately, his hard black eyes revealing nothing of his thoughts. Meg forced herself to meekness, getting back into the character that had fled while she was riding.

As the door closed, William's voice lowered. "I need you, you know. You are an important part of my establishment."

"Yes, sir."

He looked at her a moment, then his voice warmed. "Now that's enough chastisement. We have work to do."

Reluctantly, Meg moved forward, pasting a smile on her face. "What did you need me for?"

"We need to work on the Baker deal." Then his eyes, which had changed expression once again, strolled over her body. "And I needed to see your pretty face."

Meg suppressed her shudder and went to the filing cabinet. Taking out 'B', she returned and perched on the edge of Mario's desk. Carefully, so that she wasn't being obvious, she made sure her skirt slipped up to a just barely decent position. Her boss's eyes ran over her flesh like a caress, but she pretended not to notice.

"So, what is the problem?" she asked.

"He's trying to cheat me, Ang. We have to go over the numbers and see if they match up."

"And if they don't?" she asked breathlessly. Fascination with violence was supposed to be part of her character.

Mario's smile was more suited to a reptile than a man. "Then we deal with him."

"Can I watch?"

"If you're a good girl." Then he frowned. "And you're not late."

Meg ducked her head in false repentance.

"Now open the folder."

"Yes, sir."

They had been adding up numbers for only a few minutes when the phone rang. Mario let out a heavy sigh, and Meg winced.

"Excuse me, dear."

The tone of his voice made the color drain out of Meg's face, and she could feel her fingers instinctively tighten on her pencil. For interupting them, someone was going to die.

"Willams...What do you want, Peter? I'm bus...What? Are you sure?...Stay right there."

Mario calmly replaced the receiver. "Something's come up, Angelique. We'll have to finish this later."

"More important than money?" she tried to say lightly through a throat that was threatening to close.

"Unfortunately, yes. Please mark our place. I'll try to be back in an hour or two."

Meg hopped off of the desk with a nod, already following his request. Without looking back, Mario got up and took something from his upper left hand drawer. After secreting it in the waistline of his pants, he slipped silently into the corridor.

Watching him go, the hair stood up on Meg's neck. Something had just happened, and whatever it was, it was all bad.

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Surprise! It's not really a death fic after all. ;)


	5. Chapter 4

Frannie's Lament

By Tanya Reed

Disclaimer: Due South doesn't belong to me. I wish it did, but it doesn't.

Ready for more craziness?

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Early the next morning, in a nondescript building in an underpopulated part of the countryside near Mario's estate, two men were speaking. Brother Joe, a young man in his late twenties, with dark hair and impishly twinkling hazel eyes, seemed little more than a boy, while his companion, Alley Cat, was big and grey headed with a grimly serious face. A roadmap of wrinkles showed his age, and his green eyes were as flinty as chisled stone. As Joe regarded his companion, he felt resentment once more rise within him. This was his first desk job, and his restlessness was slowly making him hate the bear-like Cat.

"You heard from the Pretender?" Alley Cat asked, his brows drawn together. "We weren't expecting a report for another two days."

"Something's come up." Joe leaned back insolently in his chair, chewing a piece of Speriment gum and waiting for Cat to take the bait.

It took only a few minutes for the older man to demand, "Well?"

"Remember those American blokes that were staying with Lawrence?"

"I remember something like that. They are of no consequence, we were told."

"Well, we were told wrong."

"Explain."

Brother Joe grinned. "It seems there's a slight complication."

"Yes? Damn you, Joe. Getting information from you is like pulling teeth."

Just the way he liked it when working with the old Cat. "It seems that they followed Lawrence into the lion's den."

"Did they..."

Joe raised his hand. "Let me finish, Cat. While they were visiting the old snake, it seems they came face to face with the Godmother."

"They didn't..."

Joe silenced his companion with a glare. "Remember what the CIA made the Godmother do? It all came unraveled."

"For God's sake, spit it out, man!"

"One of the bobbies is the Godmother's brother."

Alley Cat's mouth flew open in a most satisfying way.

"Oh, I see you understand our predicament."

"Bloody Yanks! We should have done this ourselves."

"They had first dibs, remember?"

"Still, if you want a job done right, get an Englishman to do it."

"That doesn't matter. What matters is that we've got orders."

"Which are?"

"We find the three cops and bring them in for a quick lesson on the NACT project."

"And then?"

"And then." Joe shrugged, "We either kill them or let them go. Whichever our boss decides. All that really matters is that the shock of seeing the Godmother doesn't make them do something stupid."

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As Ben and Kowalski sat in the cozy blue and white dining room waiting for both Vecchio and their supper to join them, the Mountie watched the owner's three daughters at work. Two of them, each with blazing orange hair, were serving guests, and the other seemed to be doing some kind of decorating.

She roamed the room, pinning a purple streamer here, a pink balloon there. Along with the welcoming white of the walls and the muted sky blue of the linens, the soft pastels seemed to add a soft cheerfulness to the room.

Every once in awhile, Fraser would glance at Kowalski, who looked even more high strung than usual. If he had ever doubted his assumations about the blond detective's affection towards Francesca, he couldn't now. He could tell Ray wanted to pace. It was evidenced in the quivering tightness of his lean body and the way he didn't know what to do with his hands.

When Vecchio appeared in the doorway across the room, Kowalski looked at him with an intensity that was almost frightening.

Ben moved his studied gaze from Kowalski to Vecchio, noticing that while his old friend seemed to have aged exponentially in the last year, some of that had fallen away over the last twenty-four hours. There was a determination, a steeliness, that had been missing for a long time. The look on his face seemed positive, assuring Fraser of his success.

He hadn't even reached the table yet when Kowalski demanded, "So, what'd he say?"

Vecchio raised his eyebrows as he plunked down into his chair. "Which one?"

"Take yer pick." This came out as a growl, and Ray's blue eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Well," Vecchio rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Welsh told me that it's all right if we take another week off, as long as Frobisher doesn't mind. I told him about Benny's call home. That means we should have the time we need."

"And?"

"And I didn't get to talk to Williams." As Kowalski's face fell, he hastened to add, "But I did talk to his assistant--some French chick with a sexy voice. She said that her boss is free in the afternoon the day after tomorrow and pencilled us in. We can't do anything else until then."

"So, we wait?" Ben finally spoke, causing Kowalski to scowl.

"I hate waitin'."

"It's either wait or run in there unprepared. That won't be doing my sister any favours." Then he took a gulp of the water sitting on the table. "But I hate waiting too."

Even Ben nodded at this, thinking of all they could be doing if they just knew where to start.

"How d'ya suppose she got here?" Kowalski asked again.

"With any luck, Ray, we'll know the day after tomorrow."

Then talking stopped as one of the smiling red-headed McKinnon girls started moving their way, her tray full of food. Though he knew Kowalski would be disappointed, Ben was pleased to see that it wasn't fish and chips.

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Frannie was dreaming when the knock came upon her door early the next morning. It was a dream filled with light and love, laughing children and adults that were trying to out talk each other. It was a dream of home. Trying to ignore the knock, she groaned and rolled over, pulling her blankets over her head. The knock came again, this time louder and more insistant.

"Renata, get up," came a gruff voice.

The voice cut through the last cobwebs of sleep, setting her immediately on edge. She recognized it as that of Jim Vickers, a man whose harsh and brutal treatement of others often made her stomach clench in fear. Not wanting to make him knock twice, she stumbled out of bed, her heart racing.

Fearful curiosity made her grab her robe without bothering to dress. For Vickers to come to her room without Mario was a first; the older man did not trust his goons with his 'princess'. This in itself was enough to cause cold beads of sweat to form on the back of her neck.

Nervously tucking dark strands behind her ears, she opened the door and asked, "What is it?"

"Come with me."

"Why?"

"Just come."

His tone showed he would suffer no argument so, pulling her robe tighter against her, Frannie stepped into the hallway. She studied the grim, handsome face for a moment, struck once more by its coldness.

"Is...is something wrong with Mario?" she asked semi-calmly, struggling to slip into her role.

The big man never answered. Instead, he put a surprisingly gentle hand under her elbow and began to lead her through the majestic corridors.

Something was strange, and in her half wakened state, it took Frannie a few moments to figure out what it was. Then, startled, she realized that a hush hung over everything. Where maids and other employees should be scurrying around performing their morning duties, there was only an almost tangible silence. Its unnaturalness made Frannie shiver, and she wished she were not alone with Vickers.

The shiver deepened as a pain filled scream made the hair at her nape stand on end. It was a tortured sound, one that seemed as if it was being ripped unbidden from its owner. Forgetting her fear of Jim, Frannie reached for the comfort of another human being. At her clasping of his arm, Vickers looked at her. She almost believed that she saw his eyes soften.

"That's nothing for you to worry about, Renata."

She did not let go of his arm. As they moved through the corridors, she occasionally heard more screams or curses. Each one made her want to cry out, and she was sure her complexion must be the color of milk.

After what seemed like hours, but must have just been a few minutes, they stopped in a section of the manor she had never been in. Vickers reached in his belt and took out a ring of nasty looking keys. Frannie watched numbly as he chose one and put it in the lock on one of the doors.

As the door opened, he said, "Now be a good girl and go inside."

"You're locking me in?" she squealed.

"Temporarily, but you won't be alone."

Then he shut the door in her face. Frannie stared at it for several breaths before muttering, "Jerk."

She turned, taking in the room around her and noting sounds of water running. It was extravagant quarters for a jail cell. Opulant wall hangings of deer and doves covered two of the walls. Another had two queen sized beds in ornately carved boxes with silk sheets and comforters as well as two cherry bedstands and two antique dressers. Near the door she had entered was a small, very expensive table with two chairs, and various other elegant chairs dotted the room. The wall with the hangings also boasted a fireplace and a writing desk that looked to be hundreds of years old. The sounds she heard seemed to be coming from the last wall, one with a door in its middle. Frannie assumed that was a bathroom. Beside the door, one on each side, were two large wardrobes, and beside the table, where breakfast was laid out, was a large bookcase.

The door opened and a familiar face exited, rubbing vigorously at her dark hair with a towel. She was wearing a peach colored robe and had obviously just gotten out of the shower. She looked at Frannie, her face set grimly, and gave her a slight nod.

"Good morning, Renata."

"Mornin', Ang," Frannie replied automatically. "Do you know what the hell's goin' on?"

"Yes. Yes, I do."

Meg threw her towel on one of the expensive chairs and rubbed her forehead with a hand. Frannie saw traces of worry go through her dark eyes but knew better than to comment on it.

"Well?"

"A most amazing thing has happened. It seems that our dear stable hand Harvey turned out to be a traitor. He was giving Mario's secrets away to some very important people."

Frannie felt the blood drain from her face again as her hands began to tremble. She lowered herself onto one of the nearby chairs. Somehow, she managed to keep her breathing from sounding loud and harsh but she didn't know if she could keep from passing out.

"In fact, it turns out that Harvey was an English spy, and now Mario is afraid there are other spies in his midst. He's locking up and interrigating everyone on the premises to find out if they know anything," Meg continued.

Remembering the screams, Frannie's stomach turned over, and she had to fight not to throw up.

"Terrific," she whispered.

Meg scowled. "I thought so. Fun too. My employer--your lover--seems to have provided us with clothes, so we may as well get dressed. You never know when our turn will be.

With that, she walked to one of the wardrobes and started rummaging. Frannie just watched her mutely, fear and confusion strong within her. Would they be found out? And if they were, would she live to see another morning?


	6. Chapter 5

Frannie's Lament

by Tanya Reed

Disclaimer: The Due South universe still doesn't belong to me.

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Meg paced the room restlessly, every once in awhile sneaking a peek at Frannie. The Italian woman still sat where she had settled upon hearing of Harvey's death three hours before. She remained there while Meg got dressed, while she methodically checked the rooms for bugs, and while she paced. Frannie's face was sickly pale, there there was a whiteness about her lips that Meg didn't like. Plus, she hadn't spoken a word for a long time.

Meg felt a momentary pang of guilt as she stopped pacing and finally fully regarded Frannie. It was her fault that the American was in this mess, and somehow she had to get her out of it. Those dull, dark eyes would regain their spark if Meg had to slap it back into them, she vowed to herself. Over the past year, she had come to depend on Francesca Vecchio more than anyone else in her life. She'd be damned if she lost the best partner she ever had.

Plunking down beside Frannie, she growled, "We've got to get out of here."

Frannie didn't answer, but her eyes went to the door. Meg continued, keeping her voice a barely audible tone, "I searched for bugs but didn't find any. Doesn't mean there are none."

Meg's eyes followed Frannie's, and she felt the stirring of fear in her belly. She didn't voice it or show it because she knew that Frannie's emotions fed off of her. When she was calm, Frannie became calm; the need to calm Frannie kept Meg calm. Together, they both had clearer heads.

Knowing what Frannie was thinking, Meg voiced it. "It's only a matter of time before..."

This got a small nod of understanding as Frannie clasped her hands together in her lap. Meg wanted to shake her partner; the subdued silence was so uncharacteristic, it made the back of her neck prickle.

Then, finally, "So, what are we going to do?"

Meg bit her lip, admitting, "I don't know, but we'll think of something. We have to."

"They killed him."

With a sigh, Meg rubbed her damp palms on the jeans she rarely got to wear as Angelique Marceau. At first, she didn't know how to answer this simple statement but she felt she had to.

"I know they did, but we all knew the risks going in."

"Knowing and seeing are two different things. I knew that Ray could get shot while he was undercover, but do you think it was any easier to deal with Muldoon's shooting him?"

"True enough, but it will all be a moot point if we don't figure out how to get out of this. We will be just as dead as Harvey."

Frannie sank into silence for another moment before a look of determination drove the listlessness from her face. It spread quickly, squaring her jaw and lighting fire in her eyes. Meg was pleased to see it, and the feeling almost made her smile. If there was anyone in the world who was more stubborn and tenacious than she was, it was Francesca Vecchio.

"All right, let's get the jerk."

This time, the smile did break out. With a grim sort of amusement, Meg stuck out her hand and her partner shook it. The time for worrying was behind them. Now, it was time for action.

------------------------

Vecchio and Kowalski sat in Kowalski's room in sullen silence. The tension in the air was so thick Vecchio felt he could reach out and grab it. Neither was a patient man and waiting for their meeting with Williams the next day was grating on their nerves.

Benny had left them some time before, claiming a walk and some fresh air would do him good. Vecchio figured he'd just gotten tired of him and Kowalski snapping at each other.

Ray snuck a glance at Kowalski. The blond man's hair was crazier than ever, his eyes behind the thick glasses wide with fevered thought. Fingers tapped the armrest of his chair, shoes the floor. Though energy was not unusual for Kowalski, Ray thought he saw something more. It confirmed what he had suspected before Frannie's dea...disappearance. Kowalski had a thing for his sister. It didn't bug Ray as much as it once would have. His time in the mob and, later, his relationship with Stella had mellowed him a little; the first because he had seen that Frannie's choices could have been a lot worse, the second because he learned that people should be free to make their own mistakes.

"I hate waitin'!" burst from Kowalski, the fifth time in two hours.

Ray rubbed a hand over his head and sighed. "Do you think it's any easier for me?"

Without answering, Kowalski jumped to his feet and went to the window. Ray knew what he was thinking. In his mind's eye, he could see the pleading on his sister's face when he recognized her two days before. Until then, he had liked Mario Williams, but the unmistakeable fear had instantly negated that. It told him that, no matter how she got there, she was not being treated well. The creep was going to pay for that--just as soon as Frannie was home, safe and sound in their mother's arms.

"I'll be damned," Ray whispered.

"What?" Kowalski asked, turning to stare at him intently.

"Ma was right, Ray."

Kowalski looked confused for a moment, then nodded in understanding. "She said her heart would know if Frannie had died."

"My Ma is _not_ crazy or deluded. She just had faith."

"Mother's intuition."

Suddenly, despite the danger Frannie was in, Vecchio felt his spirits life a little. Though bad, circumstances were a lot better than when they had left for England. Now, his sister was alive, and his mother was not crazy. Things might work out okay after all.

It was then that the phone rang. The Rays looked at each other, then, with a shrug, Vecchio reached for the receiver.

"Vecchio."

"Hi, is this Ray?" It was a soft, feminine voice, one that Ray felt he should know but didn't.

"Which Ray are you looking for?"

"This is Andrea."

A smile broke over the Italian's face as he remembered Lawrence's sweet young maid. She was a pretty little thing, and he regretted forgetting about her in the excitement.

"Andrea, hi! This is Ray Vecchio. How're you doin'?"

Across the room, Kowalski's eyebrows shot up, so Ray winked at him.

"I have been looking for you. You didn't leave me your new number."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. We were distracted. I'm glad you found me."

"You are?"

"Yup." In fact, he was picturing her in his mind, how she looked when he had surprised her with a kiss. "You don't know how glad."

It sounded like she let out a breath of relief as she gushed, "Good! I was hoping that you still liked me. I was wondering, well, I was wondering if you'd like to have tea with me this evening."

"Tea?" This time, he raised his eyebrows at Kowalski, who nodded. "Sure. I'd love to."

His partner was right. There was nothing they could do until the next day. Besides, it might help to pass the time if he had dinner with Andrea.

"How about six? At your bed and breakfast."

"Are you sure you want to come all this way?"

"It will be no problem. Tomorrow's my day off."

"Okay, if you don't mind the drive or my partners."

She laughed and answered, "They're sweet. I'll see you at six."

"See you then."

As he hung up the phone, he grinned at Kowalski, making his green eyes sparkle. Kowalski had no choice but to answer it with one of his own.

Things were definitely looking up.

--------------------------------------------

Frannie was looking a lot better, Meg noted after her Italian partner had washed and dressed. She was sitting on one of the chairs regarding Meg with with a wry grin. The color had come back to her face and the life to her eyes. An air of excitement hung around her, and she seemed as eager to take on the role of Renata Mancini as she had the first time she heard the name. Meg, herself, felt determined, but she didn't know if she was that determined. She was growing to hate the wishy-washy Angelique, a woman who both feared and was excited by violence. Putting on her persona was like wearing a straight jacket. Her eyes narrowed a little as she continued to study Frannie. But at least she didn't have to share his bed. Just the thought was so repulsive, it made her want to throw up. She had no idea how Frannie managed and the knowledge that she did it because she had to made Meg respect her more than she ever believed she could.

"Ang, you're scowling."

"Huh?"

"You look like you ate a fork."

Dark thoughts of Angelique were forced away as Meg found herself laughing. "A fork?"

"Yeah, you know. It's all pointy and it hurts going down."

"I'll take your word for it."

She was still smiling a few minutes later when the lock on their door rattled. Frannie stood and put on her most seductive look, while Meg forced her face into a mask of timidity.

Meg was expecting Jim or someone with their lunch, but it was Mario who walked in. Somehow, she managed to keep the distaste from her face as Frannie ran to him.

"Mario."

"Hey, darlin'. How are you doing?" he asked, taking her slim body into his arms.

"Pretty good. I was wondering if I would see you today."

"I couldn't leave my best girl to her own devices without an explanation, now, could I?"

"Angelique told me that something very bad had happened. Is it true?"

Meg watched her friend in action and wondered how she had perfected that clueless but sweet expression. Meg had studied Renfield for years and couldn't do half as good a job as Frannie. She chalked it up to the lack of self respect the Italian had before Welsh gave her a job as Civilian Aide.

"Yes, there are some things going on, but nothing I can't handle."

Mario threw Meg a cold look and she wished Frannie hadn't mentioned her name. He didn't follow up on it, though. Instead, he continued to dote on Frannie.

"How do you like your room?"

"It's very nice, and I like sharing it with Angelique, but," Then Frannie pouted like a child, "Do I have to be locked up like an animal?"

"Sorry, sweets, but it's necessary. Don't you worry, though. It'll all be over in a couple of days."

"I hope so."

"Now, give me a kiss. Then, I've got to talk to Angelique."

Frannie complied, leaning in very close to peck his cheek. As she pulled away and went to sit on her bed, taking up the nailfile on the table, Meg watched Mario's face change. The playful look dropped from it so fast that he seemed instantly transformed. His expression was grim as he motioned her over to the desk.

"Sit."

"Yes, sir." She nodded, pushing her glasses higher on her nose.

As she sat, he leaned menacingly over the desk. Meg didn't have to pretend the nervousneous she was sure was present in her eyes.

"Did you make up that list of employees I asked you for?"

Meg nodded. "Yes, but it would have been easier if you allowed me my computer."

He gave her a sharp shake of his head. "No communications in or out. Do you hear me, Angelique?" Then his eyes narrowed, and he took her chin in his rough hand. He squeezed gently, but Meg could feel the power behind it. "Unless, of course, _you_ were Harvey's accomplice and need your computer to alert those outside."

A sharp pain went through her gut and she could feel sweat breaking out over her body. She made her eyes open wide in horror behind those big glasses she hated. She let a tremble come to her lips, making her look more terrified than her very real but rational fear.

Then Mario grinned at her predatorily, his white teeth glinting in the light coming from the one window. He released his grip, caressing her jaw tenderly. It made her skin crawl.

"All right, where is the list?"

Obediantly, Meg opened a drawer and drew out several pieces of paper. On it, she had placed red stars, as he had instructed, by people he or she did not completely trust. He ran his eyes over it quickly, then put it in his pocket to look over later.

"And where is my appointment book?"

Meg took the black book out of the same drawer. She gave this to him as well, but he didn't even look at it.

"Just because you are in here does not mean you are on vacation. Do you understand?"

She nodded, not speaking.

"Good. I will be sending Vickers over later with some work for you. I expect it to be done by tomorrow." Then, he straightened. "Oh, and one more thing." He waggled a finger in her direction. "No more talking about my business with Renata. She does not need to know these things."

Meg lowered her eyes in supplication, trying to ignore the seething in her soul in response to having to obey this monster. "Yes, sir."

"Good, I'm glad that we understand each other."

Then, he turned from her, and his face once more wore an endearing smile.

"Well, my little princess, I am leaving. Is there anything I can send up for you?"

Frannie looked up from her nails to say, "Something to do would be nice. I'm bored."

"I'll see what I can do. Don't bug Angelique too much. Okay?"

"All right. Will you be back?"

"Not today, but I'll see you in the morning."

He went over and kissed her forehead, as one might have a child, then turned to go. Meg caught a climpse of two guards waiting for him through the closing door. Not really wanting to speak, Meg threw Frannie a look. Her partner nodded, and Meg chewed on her lip in thought. One way or another, they had to get out of there.


	7. Chapter 6

Frannie's Lament

by Tanya Reed

Thanks to everyone who's stuck it out so far (if there are any of you left. :)) Now, you finally get some answers.

Disclaimer: Due South belongs to Alliance Atlantis.

------------------

Ray sat at a table by himself. He fidgeted and, every once in awhile, he threw a look at Fraser and Kowalski, who were at the next table. Benny was quietly drinking a glass of milk, but Kowalski was grinning like a sated cat. It was ten after six.

Ray watched his friends receive sandwiches and a pot of tea from one of the McKinnon girls and wondered what was keeping Andrea. He hoped she hadn't changed her mind. Kowalski would never let him live it down.

It was as this thought formed that the door opened and she walked in. Her long, dark hair fell loose to her shoulders, curling slightly at the ends, and her face had just a faint brushing of make up. A red blouse, cut low in the front, accentuated her pale skin; a short black skirt revealed long, well-formed legs. There was something more to her too, something that he had never noticed before. It was almost as if a glow surrounded her, and it was a glow of self confidence. Ray felt his breath catch in his throat. God, she was beautiful!

Andrea looked around searchingly and when her green eyes met Ray's, they lit up. Genuine happiness touched her features, and he knew she wasn't lying when she said she was glad he would meet her.

She hurried over, stopping briefly to greet Ray's friends before sitting down.

"Hi," she said with a smile.

Ray returned the smile, glad that he wore the best clothes he had brought with him. "Hi. You look nice."

"Thanks. So do you."

Then, she regarded him frankly. There was something in her expression that made him uneasy. After a moment, she leaned forward and whispered, "There's something I need to share with you. I didn't just come for your company."

Puzzled, Ray leaned forward as well. "What do you mean?"

Andrea glanced quickly around the room before continuing, "I've come to bring you a message."

Ray's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't get a chance to ask questions right away beccuase one of the girls reached them with food. Andrea smiled at her pleasantly, giving her a sweet thank you. The girl smiled back and disappeared towards the kitchen. Ray's companion waited until she was out of earshot before she spoke again.

"Ray, it's about your sister."

"My sister?" His voice rose, and Andrea's eyes flashed dangerously.

In a tone he'd never heard her use before, she ordered, "Keep it down. We're just two friends on a date, remember?"

"What about my sister?" he hissed hotly, deciding to go along with her for the moment, for Frannie's sake.

"We know you saw her, and you're bound to want explanations."

Ray's mouth was suddenly very dry. He took a gulp of water, then demanded, "Who _are_ you?"

Her lips thinned into a straight line. "My name is Andrea. I work as a maid for Scott Lawrence. Now start eating before people become suspicious."

Angrily, Ray took a sandwich and started chomping it. He let his eyes convey his displeasure and saw discomfort go over Andrea's face. She watched him silently for a moment, then looked away from his heated glare.

"I've been ordered to tell you something."

Swallowing, Ray asked, "By Mr. Lawrence?"

"No." She shook her head, still not looking at him. "Not by Mr. Lawrence."

"All right, lady, what is it?"

The eyes that suddenly flew to his were tinged with hurt and sadness. "I do like you. I didn't lie about that."

"Fine. What's the message?"

"You do understand that we have to seem like we're enjoying each other's company. Doing otherwise could be dangerous to The Go...to your sister's health."

"You'd hurt her?" Ray's hand tightened on his glass.

"No, not us. We're on her side. _Him_."

"Williams," Ray whispered the name, causing Andrea to nod slightly.

"We're willing to give you answers to your questions. Go to this address," she slid a hand across the table to take his. Something pressed into his palm, but she did not let go right away. Instead, she squeezed and left her hand in his, "tomorrow morning at seven. Ask for The Professor. She'll take care of you."

He looked down at their twined hands and heard her add, "I really do like you, Ray. I like you a lot."

Ray sighed heavily, wondering what in the hell Frannie had gotten herself involved in. Whatever it was, it involved a lot of secrecy and probably men with guns.

His eyes went back to Andrea's, and he saw something almost like pleading there. He stared at her for several moments before she gave him a tentative smile. Sighing again, Ray gave in and squeezed her hand gently.

"All right, Andrea. Why don't the two of us just sit here and finish our tea? Would that be okay?"

She ran her fingers gently over his, causing tingles to shoot up his arm. Whatever her role in all this, he could not deny that he liked her.

"More than okay," she whispered.

He was still angry with her--he was angry at everyone--but he put it aside. Andrea was still a very attractive woman, and his feelings about her had not changed. He was determined to forget everything but that for the duration of their meal, and by the end--cheered on by Andrea's dazzling smile--he almost had.

-----------------

"It's still night," Kowalski grumbled as their rented car sped through the countryside early the next morning.

"The sun's out, Ray," Ben answered good naturedly.

"You know he's right, Benny," Vecchio argued from behind the wheel. "Why anyone would want a meeting at such an ungodly hour is beyond me."

Ben didn't answer this time. He decided to let his friends grumble, it seemed to make them feel better. Instead, he thought about Williams and the fear in Vecchio's voice when he told them what Andrea had to say. The meeting for that day had been cancelled. Williams had called the night before, saying something important had come up. The Rays were all for overrunning the manor, but Ben thought it would be better to wait and see what The Professor--whoever that was--had to say first. After a heated discussion, his friends had agreed, but they hadn't exactly been happy about it.

As they approached the address Andrea had given to Ray, Ben furrowed his brow in puzzlement. The land around them was farmland, with giant old farm houses that were few and far between.

"Are you sure we're goin' the right direction?" Kowalski woke up enought to ask.

"Yup, but I don't see anything nearby but that rundown barn. What do you thinnk, Benny?"

Vecchio handed Ben the directions he had been given the night before. The Mountie's frown deepened.

"According to this, Ray, that lone barn is the building we're looking for."

Kowalski slid forward. "Yer kiddin'."

"No, he's not. This better not be some kind of joke," Vecchio growled, turning sharply and pulling up to the building.

When he shut off the engine, Ben heard noises he didn't think the others could hear. It sounded like voices.

"I think she was trying to de...dete...stop us from savin' Frannie," Kowalski said darkly, getting out of the car first.

"No, Ray," Ben contradicted. "There are people here. Quite a few of them."

"Oh, ya? Then where are dey?"

"In there." He strode forward, not bothering to check if the Rays were following. At the door, he knocked and was not surprised, though his friends were, when it was opened by a serious looking young man. He was dressed in farmer's clothes, but his eyes showed a sharp with cold intelligence that didn't quite fit.

"Yeah, can I help you?"

"We have an appointment with The Professor."

The man's face took on the same expression as his eyes. "And you are?" His thick English country accent thinned into an American one.

Vecchio pushed past Ben, his grim eyes flashing and his lips were set in a hard line. "I don't know who you are, kid, but I'm coming through that door whether you want me to or not. My name is Ray Vecchio, and my sister's in trouble. You people seem to be the only ones who know what's going on, and if I have to go over you to save her, I'll do it."

"Ray Vecchio?" Then he looked at the others. "Ben Fraser? Ray Kowalski?"

"Dat's us."

He gave them a sharp nod and opened the door. The eyes of all three North American men widened as they saw what was beyond it. Instead of the run down barn with moldy hay they were expecting, they walked into a large and neat office with doors leading from it in several directions. Ben realized that behind those doors was where the sound of voices were coming from, as well as--strangely--beneath their feet. There were several large chairs scattered throughout the room, but only one desk. Behind this desk sat an older woman, still pretty, with long red hair that was flecked with grey. Glasses perched on the end of an elegant nose, and blue eyes looked seriously through them.

At their entrance, she looked up from her computer.

"Hello," she smiled as the young man at the door led them forward.

"These men were asking for you, Professor. They're the cops you expected."

"Thank you."

He nodded and went back to his post as the Professor said quietly, "He's a good boy who mostly mans the door. He keeps out the people we don't want to discover our little space here. So, you are the ones Andrea spoke of?"

"My sister. She said this was about my sister."

"Do not worry, Detective Vecchio. Joe will tell you everything you want to know."

"Joe? Who's Joe? I thought you were the chick with all the answers."

She laughed lightly. "Not quite. I'm just the one who holds it all together. One moment." Then, she pressed a button. "Joe, they're here."

"Right there, Sweetheart."

The Professor smiled and shook her head. "One of these days, I'm going to get him for that."

It was only a few minutes before one of the doors opened, emitting a young, dark haired man. He smiled pleasantly and approached the three men.

"Hello." He held out his hand. "You must be Fraser, Vecchio, and Kowalski. You can call me Joe."

After shaking their hands, he winked at the Professor, who rolled her eyes. Ben thought they seemed very comfortable with each other.

"Now, gentlemen, please come down to my office. I believe we have somethings to discuss."

Silently, they followed him back through the door and down a flight of stairs. At the bottom stretched a long white corridor with doors along either side. A couple of hallways intersected it, and there was, at one point, a depression in the wall holding a pay phone, a fridge, a television, and a couple of chairs.

"It's this one here. Come on in."

The first thing Ben noted was that the office was quite messy. Papers were scattered everywhere, giving the room a cluttered but comfy atmosphere.

"Have a seat." Joe pointed to some chairs, then went and sat behind his desk. Leaning back, he twined his fingers behind his head and put his feet on his desk.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Vecchio burst out, "So, what about Frannie?"

"Frannie?" The man looked puzzled for a moment before understanding broke through. "Oh, you mean...Well, I suppose I should start at the beginning. There are a lot of different parties involved, and the story's a little complicated."

Ben sat down and studied the man intently. He looked like an honest but slightly discontented person.

"About a year and a half ago, your two countries, or to be more specific, the CIA and the CSIS, came up with a plan. They thought it might be helpful and beneficial to deal with some of their common threats together. From this idea, an experiment was born. It consisted of creating five teams, each composed of one new Canadian intelligence officer and one new American intelligence officer. These ten people were chosen both from new recruits and recommended people not yet on the inside. It took about six months for them to hammer out all the details, and when they were finally done, the NACTs were born."

Kowalski asked in puzzlement, "The NACTs?"

The look Joe threw at him made it seem the agent thought Ray's wall was short a brick. "North American Co-operation Teams. Now, please don't interupt." When this request was greeted with silence, he continued, "It was at this time that your sister was approached. Though reluctant to leave her home and family, the CIA were very persuasive..."

Unable to help himself, Vecchio put in incredulously, "Frannie? They wanted _Frannie_ that badly?"

"She came highly recommended, Detective. Anyway, the story I heard was that, frustrated with a perceived lack of respect, she finally decided to take the offer."

As Ben listened, Vecchio's voice echoed through his mind from long ago. "Let me tell you somethin', Frannie. You're my sister, all right? But trust me, no matter what you wear, people will never respect you." At the time, his friend had taken his sister for granted but that had changed later. Ben wondered if Frannie had just not noticed or whether she was working on an impression taken from when she was younger.

"The CIA was worried about The G..." He paused and frowned. "...your sister's large extended family. They were afraid her identity would be discovered sooner or later and things would go to hell. Because of this, they decided she had to die. By fortune, one morning, a young agent matching her description was found blown apart near her car..."

"Not fortunate for her," Kowalski grumbled.

"...and so they gave her...Frannie's identity. From there, she went to four months of intense training, meeting her partner and taking on the code name of The Godmother."

"Which is why you haven't been saying her name," Ben said thoughtfully.

"I only learned it this morning, so you must forgive me. Where was I? Oh, yes. The Godmother and her partner, The Ice Queen, were given their first assignment eight months ago."

"Williams," Vecchio growled.

"Yes, Williams. Mario Williams. AKA Warren Burke. AKA Charles Pearson. An illegal arms dealer who fled to the UK after his prostitution and drug rings fell apart in North America. He's doing a pretty good business here selling North American weapons to Eastern Europe and Asia. He's got contacts everywhere, including the Canadian government and the British elite."

"Lawrence and Wilson," Ben suggested.

"Wilson has never been confirmed, but we're pretty sure about Lawrence. The Pretender's been watching him for five years."

"Is everyone a spy or a criminal in this damn country?" Vecchio burst out angrily.

"Certainly not, Detective."

"We just had bad luck. It's Fraser, he attracts it," Kowalski added.

"They needed someone to go in, someone that Williams would not suspect. Because he is known to think little of women, it had to be one of the women's teams. It started with The Godmother. She went to several of Lawrence's parties and flirted shamelessly with Williams. Eventually, they became an item. During this time, Williams's assistant was mysteriously murdered, and he needed a new one. The Ice Queen stepped in. The two of them have been feeding information to Harvey, a British agent who has been with Williams for three years..."

A knock on the door interupted Joe's flow, and his feet dropped from the desk. "What now?"

Without waiting for an invitation, the person on the other side pushed it inward. It turned out to be a grizzled older man with eyes as cold as ice.

"What do you want?" Joe snapped irritably. "You can't trust me to do this on my own?"

"I have to speak with you," he said, ignoring the younger man's tone.

"I'm a little busy here, Cat."

"It's urgent."

With a sigh, Joe got to his feet. "I'll be back in a moment."

All three cops nodded, absorbing what they had just heard. As Ben's mind worked on the information, he listened to the two spies enter the next room. He found that he could still hear them perfectly. The silence of his friends made it even easier.

"What do you want?" Joe demanded angrily. Ben had noticed that there was a lot of tension between the two men.

"It's the Williams case. We have trouble."

Up to this point, Ben had been trying to block out their voices, not wanting to be rude. At mention of Mario, his reluctance vanished, and he concetrated intently. Vecchio turned and opened his mouth, but Ben quickly raised his hand. Both Rays frowned in puzzlement, but their silence remained unbroken.

"If you're talking about the North American cops, I've got them in my office. They won't hurt the mission--one way or another."

"No, it's not them. It's Harvey. He's been discovered."

Joe's voice filled with shock. "Are you sure?"

The other man's tone was sharp and biting as he replied, "Well, he was found in a nearby field with a hole in his throat."

"Harvey's dead?"

"As a doornail."

"And agents Ice Queen and Godmother?"

"They're on their own. We can't risk a rescue mission. Williams has his house shut up so tight, a mouse couldn't get in. The best we can do is leave the Pretender in place and wait and see if they contact her."

"They won't get out alive."

A pause, then, "Probably not. You may as well let the cops go. They can't blow the mission now."

Ben felt his whole body grow cold. Some of his shock and apprehension must have shown on his face because Kowalski leaned towards him and demanded, "What is it, Frase?"

"I'll tell you later. Act as if nothing is amiss."

When Brother Joe entered a few minutes later, he found three patiently waiting, bored looking cops inside. If this seemed strange to him, he gave no indication.


	8. Chapter 7

Frannie's Lament

by Tanya Reed

Disclaimer: Due South is owned by Alliance Atlantis.

-----------------------------------

"So, did you get all that stuff done that he wanted you to?" Frannie asked, putting on her make up in preparation for Mario's expected visit.

Meg looked at the papers in her hand and grimaced, but all she said was, "Yeah."

If they had indeed missed a bug, it wouldn't do to say anything too obvious. With a sigh, she dropped the papers and headed to the window. It was a beautiful day out there, and she would have given anything to be riding instead of locked here in this opulant room. But at least she wasn't wearing a suit. Meg was so tired of dressing to impress; sometimes those nice clothes felt like they were squeezing the life right out of her. Today, she had opted for jeans and a loose t-shirt. If she was going to have to stay in this posh prison, she was at least going to be comfortable.

Frannie, on the other hand, had on her usual short skirt and tight fitting cropped shirt. She was also wearing a smile for some reason, and Meg wished she could borrow some of her good cheer.

Frannie finished up and turned to face Meg. "How do I look?"

"Stunning, Renata, as always," she replied dryly and was rewarded with Frannie's sticking out her tongue.

"Well, I could have said you looked like sh..."

Meg's grin was cut off by the sound of the lock. Frannie sobered just as quickly, and Meg could see her putting together the fragments of Renata. Meg hurried to follow suit, and had mastered a doe-eyed expression by the time the door opened.

Mario entered, a cloak of tension surrounding him. At first, he was staring down at the keys in his hand but, after a few seconds, his eyes rose. The moment Meg saw his face, she knew something was wrong. It was rigid, frozen, as if all the bones in it had turned to stone. Lips stretched thinly over teeth clenched in strong emotion. The most startling was his eyes-- heated pools of molton steel, full of rage and hate and something that burned like death. Meg could not look away.

"Good morning, ladies." His voice was to his eyes what ice is to fire. "Did you sleep well?"

Meg found herself unable to answer as his gaze chilled her to the bone. Frannie had come up to stand beside her, and she was just as silent.

"What, you have nothing to say? Yesterday, Renata, you ran to my arms." He sneered and turned all of his attention on Frannie. "Has something changed, my dear?"

"You look different this morning, Mario. You're scaring me."

The sound of Frannie's voice shook Meg out of her stupor. Remembering she was Angelique, she asked, "Have we done something wrong, sir?"

Mario barked out a laugh. "Wrong? No, Angelique. Whatever gave you that idea?" His eyes swept over her form, gliding over flesh more surely than fingers. Meg wasn't sure whether to shudder or stand her ground. Mario seemed to note this indecisiveness because he smiled cruelly.

"I have been doing some thinking." His gaze this time swept over Frannie. "You see, I knew that Harvey could not have been working alone, and so I asked myself how could a simple groom acquire my secrets?" He spoke softly, though his words were tinged with menace. "After all, he had no access to the house. In fact, I barely saw him for minutes each week. The only way he could know my affairs was if someone in my household was telling him."

His blue eyes were back on Meg, boring into her. She could almost feel them crawling into her skin, seeking answers.

"Then, I realized that someone did see Harvey every day, and I began to wonder why someone who had admitted she wasn't much for horses on the day we met suddenly went riding every day. And I wondered why this certain someone only went riding with my personal assistant, who was hired when my previous assistant disappeared under mysterious circumstances. And, coincidences of coincidences, this happened within a couple of months after I had met the first someone.

'Why did these two women--women with such strikingly different personalities--become such fast friends?"

He coldly raised an eyebrow, and Meg suppressed another shudder. She resisted the impulse to glance at Frannie. Instead, she continued to stare impassively into those cruelly calculating eyes.

Mario's next question snapped at Meg like a whip as he demanded, "Who are you?

"I am Angelique Marceau," she replied in the slightly accented speech that she had picked up the year she was an exchange student in France.

"Angelique Marceau does not exist," he snarled, ice replacing fire in his eyes. In a way, the chilly calm was more frightening than the anger.

"I am Angelique Marceau," she repeated.

"And you?" he asked Frannie, who visibly flinched.

"My name's Renata Mancini."

He shook his head. "Then those will be the women who die," he replied with a shrug. "As I said, I have done some digging, and I know that neither of you exist...at least your identities do not exist. This is enough to convince me that you were Cantrel's informants... and I will find out everything I want to know or kill you trying."

As Mario turned to go, Meg caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She stopped herself from letting out a surprised yelp as Frannie lashed out with something, smashing it against the back of their captor's head. The man folded over like an accordian.

Meg turned horrified eyes on Frannie, whose face was triumphant.

"Gotcha."

"What did you do that for?"

"Because he was going to kill us. Now we can get away."

"All right, Miss Rambo. Any ideas as to how to get by the two guards--who are both heavily armed--outside our door?"

Frannie's face fell. "I didn't think of that."

"Obviously. Oh, well, nothing can be done about it now. Let's tie up this..."

Meg nudged him none too gently with her foot. It felt very good to see him lying there helpless. His grabby hands had often reminded her of her months with Cloutier. She fought the urge to give Mario a kick and instead went to help Frannie rip up a couple of silk sheets.

It didn't take them long to have Mario trussed up like a chicken and secured in a closet. If Meg hadn't known better, she would have sworn Frannie had done that before. She mulled this thought over as they quickly and quietly finished.

"Now what?" Frannie whispered, some of her earlier fear again in her voice.

"Now we distract and disable the guards."

"How do we do that?"

Meg bit her lip thoughtfully. "Do you watch a lot of movies, Frannie?"

The Italian shrugged as puzzlement passed over her features. "Some, I suppose. Why?"

"Well, I was thinking if we cry for help--say that something befell Mario..."

"Which it did," Frannie grinned evilly through her fear.

Despite their grave circumstances, Meg returned the grin. "And when they come to investigate, we hit them. Too bad we didn't have two fireplace pokers."

"They work real well. Lots of clunk for your buck."

"Indeed."

A hurried search of their two rooms revealed that the shower curtain rod was loose. With minimal effort, Meg pried it from the wall, hoping it would proove to be harder than a guard's head.

Once the two of them were armed, they were ready to put their plan into action. Meg's heart was pounding and she wasn't even marginally sure this would work. She kept this from her face, determined not to show Frannie her uncertainty. She raised an eyebrow questioningly, and her Italian partner nodded.

Moving closer to the door, Meg loudly said, "Oh, my God! What happened?"

"I think he passed out," Frannie answered, just the right amount of anxiousness in her voice. "Should we call the guards?"

"If we don't, they'll probably think _we_ did this...Guards! Something is wrong with Mario."

To Meg's disbelief, it worked better than in any movie. The guards rushed in, and Frannie brought the poker down on the head of the first with a loud clang. He dropped like a stone. The man behind him stumbled slightly, and Meg hit him with her shower pole. He turned in anger to see who had dared to hit him, and Meg's stomach flip flopped. Before she had to defend herself, Frannie came down with the poker against his head.

As he fell, Meg grunted, "Thanks."

Then she bent and searched the men for weapons. Finding three guns, she armed Frannie and herself. Frannie cautiously opened the door and peered into the hallway.

"It's clear."

That was something, at least. "Good. Let's go."

-----------------------

"So, what was all that about, Benton, buddy?" Kowalski asked curiously as the three of them trumped into his rented room.

"I was wondering that myself," Vecchio added, shutting the door and turning to look at his friend.

Ben rubbed a thumb over his eyebrow, wondering how to tell them what he had heard. He had managed to put it off while they were in the car, but he could put it off no longer. They had to know.

"Frase?" Kowalski prodded, a flicker of fear in his voice.

"Trouble, Ray."

"I guessed that much. What kind?"

Wearily, Ben walked to the bed and sat down. Looking at the Rays' expectant faces, he knew he had to face things head on.

"Francesca is in danger."

"We know that, Benny. She's a spy working under cover in a crazy guy's house."

"Yes, that's true, but something has changed."

"Changed how?"

Quickly, the Mountie sketched out the conversation he'd heard. Watching his friends' faces, he saw realization and fear fill them. Like him, they did not want to lose Francesca now that they had found her again.

"All right, so what are we going to do?" Vecchio asked when Ben was done. "And you can't argue with going to get her now, Fraser."

"Of course not. The time for caution has passed. Now we must employ speed."

Kowalski's eyes were glowing with restrained energy and anger. "I dunno about you guys, but if he's hurt her..."

Vecchio put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure there'll be enough to go around."

"We must also remember," Ben added, "that Francesca has a partner. We must include her in our rescue plans. We cannot let Williams kill her."

"Agreed. Besides, chances are she and Frannie are together."

"Not necessarily, Ray. Just because their superiors equate them together does not mean Williams will do so. In fact, if they were smart, they will have acted as if they despised each other."

"Yeah, well, when has Frannie ever been considered smart?"

Kowalski protested, "Frannies' always been smart, just in her own way."

Vecchio snorted but didn't reply to that. Instead, he said, "Smart or stupid, we've got to get my sister out of there."

"Can't argue with that, but how?"

Ben cleared his throat and admitted, "I think I have an idea."

"Somehow, I knew you were going to say that."

Knowing Ray did not mean this for a dig, Ben gave him a nod and then proceeded to lay out his idea.

---------------------

Frannie and Meg slipped through endless corridors. A sense of urgency hurried their feet, but still their passage was taking much too long. The mansion seemed to have expanded exponentially since they had walked it freely, and Frannie wondered if they would ever find a way out.

It was only minutes before the quiet house erupted into activity, and Frannie was sure that the guards had awakened and Mario had been discovered. The belief almost drove the breath right out of her; she had to fight to keep moving. Meg, on the other hand, seemed as calm and collected as always, making Frannie feel both admiration and envy. She was glad of it as well because it was probably the only thing that was keeping her going.

"I wish you would have waited until after dark for this little adventure, Frannie," Meg whispered. "I'd feel a lot better doing all of this slinking around in darkness."

Frannie didn't answer this because she wasn't sure how. Instead, she moved ahead of Meg and peered around the next corner. She froze, startled, as a bullet thunked into the wall beside her head. Only Meg's quick jerk on her arm prevented the next one from hitting its target.

"Now what?" Frannie demanded, her throat tight with fear.

"Now, we fight. That's what all our training was about, remember?"

Frannie expected to see scorn when she met Meg's eyes, but all she saw was support. Feeling slightly better, she drew the gun from her waistband.

"You first or me?"

Meg already had her gun in her hand. "Same time. I'll go high. You go low."

Frannie nodded and croached, pulling up her skirt to move more easily.

"One..."

"...two..."

"...three..."

Both women looked aroiund the corner and started shooting. There were three men exposed by the empty hallway. At the shots, two fell and the third lept for an open doorway. One of the fallen was still shooting, so Meg coldly dispatched him. Frannie felt her stomach heave and her hand begin to shake.

The man behind the door started firing again. Frannie heard Meg swear through clenched teeth as they both ducked back behind their corner.

"Should we keep fighting or turn back and find another entrance?" Frannie asked, noting with disbelief that her voice was steady.

"We can't leave him to tell the others where we've gone." Then she narrowed her eyes. "Are you all right, Frannie?"

"Yes."

Meg just gave a nod and dropped the subject, leaning to fire a couple more shots.

"Frozen horse meat."

"What?"

"If we had some frozen horse meat, we could get out of this easy."

"Are you insane?"

"No," Frannie answered, firing a couple shots of her own. "Just desperate."

She didn't bother to tell Meg the story behind her comment. She just pulled back and took a couple of deep breaths, preparing for her next shot. The air almost choked in her throat as she heard Meg's triumphant whisper.

"Dead centre." Then, she turned to Frannie, saying in her normal voice, "All right. All clear."

She left their saftey zone first, and Frannie followed close behind, keeping her eyes above floor level. She tried not to even think of the men lying dead at her feet, men who had, just minutes ago, been living, breathing human beings.


	9. Chapter 8

Frannie's Lament

by Tanya Reed

Thank you to Britduck and Sarai for your reviews!

I don't know if I've mentioned this, but this story was partially written because the women on Due South almost never got to have any of the fun.

Disclaimer: Due South does not belong to me. I lay no claim on it or any of its characters. I write this story for fun and not for profit.

------------------------

Frannie was sure they were going to die. After managing to get through three groups of men, all with guns, it was going to end here. She and Meg were barricaded behind a small table, four feet away from a door that led outside. Frannie's gun had been spent long before, and Meg's ammunition was low. Each thunk against the wood standing between her and death made Frannie jump, and even Meg was looking pale.

"There's not going to be anything left of this pretty soon," she commented.

Meg nodded grimly, taking a peek over the table. Wooden chunks sprayed them, prickling Frannie's skin.

"All right, Frannie," Meg said firmly, "when I count to three, I want you to make a run for it."

"But..."

"Do it. I wan't let them shoot you."

Frannie hesitated before gathering her courage and bunching her muscles.

"Ready?"

"I think so."

"One..." Frannie shifted. "...two..." She poised on the brink of motion. "...three!"

Meg rose up and fired, and Frannie made a break for the door. She heard the gunshots behind her but didn't have time to wonder which were Meg and which weren't. When she reached the door, she threw it open and raced outside. There, she stopped, unsure which direction to run in.

Behind her, the door slammed shut and Frannie gasped, expecting to feel a bullet rip through her back. Instead, she heard laboured breathing as someone rushed towards her.

Frannie turned. "Aren't you supposed to be shooting?"

"Out of bullets. Got three of the bastards, though. Now, move."

Deciding it was in her best interest to listen, Frannie dove to the left, Meg right behind.

-------------------------

The estate was huge. Of course, Ray Kowalski had known that when they drove up the long driveway the last time they were there, but now they were walking the perimeter and the grounds seemed endless.

They had arrived at the estate an hour before and, after hiding their car, Fraser had suggested they walk the fence looking for another way in. That had been the bulk of his plan. Break into the estate, find the agents, and then break out. Simple, but the simplest plans were the best. At least, Fraser thought so. It didn't feel simple to Ray. He shifted the pack on his back slightly. Why did he always have to be the pack horse?

The walk passed mostly in silence, each of the men lost in thought. Kowalski, himself, was worried about not getting there in time. Though none of them had voiced the fact that Frannie might already be dead, it was never far from his mind. He tried not to let it have any power, but it scared him to death. Ray didn't know if he could stand to lose Frannie again, to lose her without telling her how he felt.

"Look, a gate." Vecchio's voice tore Ray from his thoughts and he once more put his worry on hold.

The three of them hurried forward and peered through the bars. Nearby, a small wooden building, like those sometimes erected for children to wait for the bus in, stood deserted. Ray's eyes roamed the visible scenery for the missing guard, but everything remained silent.

"Do you think it's a trick?" Ray whispered to Fraser, who shook his head.

"I don't think so, Ray. How would they know we were coming?"

"So, should we try here, Benny?"

"Yes. Rope."

Kowalski slung the pack to the ground and opened it. He scrounged around and found the rope he had been lugging. Wordlessly, he handed it to Fraser, who looped it around his waist. Then, the Mountie walked up to the solid, very thick, brick wall. He searched the rough surface for a hand hold and began to climb. As Vecchio shaded his eyes to watch Fraser effortlessly move up the wall, Ray nervously looked around, waiting for irate dogs or guards to come bursting out of the nearby trees, but the silence remained unbroken.

When Fraser reached the top, he took the rope from his waist and efficiently affixed it to one of the wall's cruel looking spikes, then he gracefully dropped to the other side. Vecchio took that as his cue and grabbed the rope. He was a lot less graceful and a good deal more noisy as he slowly clambered up the rope. There was a precarious moment as he got stuck on a spike, then he too was up and over.

Kowalski put the gloves on he had brought just for this instance. He rubbed his hands together, getting the feel of the leather.

Ray looked through the bars to see Vecchio glaring at him. "Are you coming?"

"Yah. Hold yer socks."

He ignored Vecchio's snort and grabbed a hold of the rope. The climb was harder than Ray expected, and he had to struggle to reach the top. Once there, he pulled himself over, avoiding Vecchio's spike. First he dropped the pack down and watched as Fraser caught it, then he lowered himself down. He dangled off the top for a moment, swinging his legs, before he let go.

"Oof," came from him as he landed hard on his feet and fell backwards.

"Try to stay upright, Kowalski," growled Vecchio.

"Shut up, Vecchio."

"Ray, Ray, please," Fraser admonished, opening up the pack. Out of it he took three walkie talkies. Two of these he handed to Kowalski and Vecchio, secreting the last one on his belt. The pack, he hid behind a bush to retrieve when they returned.

"Okay, guys," Kowalski announced, "pick a direction."

"I'll take left."

"Great, Vecchio. I'll take right. That leaves straight for you, Frase. Dat okay?"

"Certainly, Ray."

Then, the three of them shared a look before each gave a nod and turned to walk away.

--------------------

Meg and Frannie quietly crept throught the grounds. Since leaving the house, they had been avoiding small groups of men, all intent on finding and killing them. Francesca looked scared to death, Meg noted, but she was performing flawlessly. Her fear didn't seem to be affecting her thinking in the least. Meg, herself, felt vulnerable. Ever since her gun ran out of bullets, she kept imainging a great big bull's eye on her back.

There seemed to be an unlimited number of henchmen. What had, as Angelique, seemed like a group of men small enough to know all the faces of, now seemed like an army.

"How many of them do you think there are?" Frannie whispered, as if reading her mind.

"There are fifty-three in all, though normally only around thirty are actually on the estate. However, these are special circumstances."

Frannie grimaced, but just asked, "Which direction do we go? I was always bad at geology."

Meg opened her mouth to say something scathing then snapped it shut again. Now was not the time. After taking a deep breath, she answered calmly, "Well, the riding trail goes south, further onto the estate, remember? That's that way. We want to go in the opposite direction, north, which is this way."

Frannie nodded and was going to speak when Meg shushed her. Voices, faint but getting stronger, were coming in their direction. Already hidden behind some maple trees, they became very still.

Soon, two men came into view, both large with dark hair and dark eyes. The largest of the two had a haggard face and scars running up and down his huge arms. His nose looked as if it had been broken several times; his mouth was hardened into a perpertual line. The smaller one was handsome, and the features that looked scrambled on his companion somehow worked on him. He looked nicer, almost softer, but there was a snakelike coldness to his eyes that told the lie in that expression. Meg recognized them as the Weber brothers. She also noticed that each had a gun in his hand. They walked so close to Meg and Frannie's hiding place that the women could have reached out to touch them. As Meg watched, all she could think of was how much more confident she'd feel with one of those guns in her hand. Her mind had a quick debate of agression against caution. After a moment, one of them won and she dove forward, knocking Shirley Weber to the ground.

From the corner of her eye, Meg saw Frannie gape, but soon lost sight of the Italian in her struggles with the older and larger Weber.

She had managed to knock the gun from Shirley's hand before he broke free and lashed out. His big fist hit Meg squarely in the face, and she fell sideways. Pain laced through her cheek, but she ignored it as the big man followed her.

"Bitch!" he growled, pinning her and preparing to hit her again.

Angrily, Meg drove her knee up into his stomach. When his grip loosened, she tore her hand away and shoved the palm hard into his nose. Blood sprayed her, and he let out a roar. Not giving him time to recover, she lifted her head and slammed it into the nose she had just broken. Shirley grunted and collapsed on top of her.

Swearing under her breath, Meg shifted Weber off of her body and looked around for Frannie. Nearby, the small American had jumped on Russell Weber's back and was pounding the top of his head with her fist. Her other arm was wrapped tightly around his neck, and he was trying to shake her off. So far, Frannie and been able to avoid his grasping hands. Being unable to grab her was making him angry, and Meg thought he was getting close to pounding his back against a tree to lose Frannie.

After making sure Shirley was still out, Meg went behind Russell and kicked him in the back of the knee. He tumbled forward, Frannie holding on for dear life.

Once they hit the ground, Frannie let go and scrambled out of Russell's way. It was just in time, as he rolled over onto his back just a second behind her. She was still in arms length, though, and he reached for her. He caught her arm, but Frannie twisted away. Meg knelt to help and narrowly missed being clunked by a large rock when Frannie's hand whizzed by. The air whooshed by her head and stopped abruptly.

Russell grunted and Frannie hit him again. That was all it took for him to join his brother in unconsciousness.

"Good shot," Meg told her, grabbing the gun from his lifeless hand and handing it to Frannie.

"Thanks."

Meg then went and retrieved the other gun from close by. "All right, Frannie. Let's see about getting us out of here."


	10. Chapter 9

Frannie's Lament

by Tanya Reed

Disclaimer: Due South, Meg, Frannie, Ben, Ray, and Ray belong to Alliance Atlantis.

-----------------------------------

Ray Vecchio walked through the lush green grounds as silently as he could. He checked everything in his path from buildings to shrubs, everything that could be used as a hiding place, in the hope that Frannie and her partner had escaped. Ray's main objective was the house, as the next best scenario had them locked up in there. The alternative was unthinkable. Now that he knew his sister was alive, she had to stay alive.

As he searched, he found himself taking an interest in the scenery, noting little things in his mind. He had been doing it awhile before he noticed it, and when he did he was annoyed. It was a habit he had unwillingly picked up from Fraser, though it wasn't as bad as if he had started tasting things.

In the distance, there was an occasional call or whistle, though the area around him remained unusually silent. He was still wondering where the guard from the gate had disappeared to.

Ray was walking by a small bush when it reached out and grabbed his walkie talkie. The plastic instrument fell to the ground with a thud and Ray groaned.

"If it's not grease and city grime, it's mud and grass stains," he muttered to himself.

Gingerly, trying to stay clean, Ray lowered himself to the ground. He looked around impatiently but could not find the walkie talkie. Temptation to leave it went through him, but he quelled it, knowing his sister's life could very well depend upon it.

With a grimace, he tried to forget about dirt and moved to lay flat so he could fish under the bush.

When the voice came just a few minutes later, it sounded right on top of him. Ray was so startled, he had to clench his teeth to keep from crying out.

"Dave!"

"Keith," another voice answered, "see anything?"

"No, I don't know where those stupid bitches got to." Keith's voice was angry.

"Well, Paul said he saw them about a half hour ago. He shot at them and missed. When he went to investigate, they were gone."

"Somebody'd better find them or our lives won't be worth shit."

There was a noise of agreement. "Won't be us. Paul saw them over there."

Ray wished he could see which way Dave was pointing, but he didn't dare to move from under his bush.

"Maybe we'll get lucky. He's offering good rewards, you know. Who woulda thought that Renata would have enough brains to be a traitor?"

"Not me, but I never did like that Angelique. Something creepy about her."

"I'll agree with that. Where you headed?"

"Towards the stables."

"Wait up, I'll come with you."

Then the voices stopped and there was only the sound of moving feet. Ray listened to them go with a lighter heart. Now he knew for sure that Frannie was out there. He just had to get to her in time.

--------------------

Frannie was running. Sounds of a gun firing behind her, almost close enough to bite tender flesh, gave her speed an edge of panic. Behind her, she could hear her partner shooting back, covering her retreat.

The man had come upon the women while they were resting in the sunshine. One moment, they were sitting, warily watching their surroundings, and the next, the world had exploded. Frannie's constant nagging fear had made her not even hesitate when Meg ordered her to run.

Frannie's flight came to an abrupt halt when she heard Meg cry out. Concern won over instinct, and she turned to see the Canadian woman sprawled on the ground close by.

Gritting her teeth, Frannie took the gun out of the top of her tight skirt. Quickly, she removed the safety and started firing wildly. That was her first indication that her hands were shaking.

She took one cleansing breath, then aimed more carefully. A bullet whizzed by her ear as she released her own shot. The man dropped but she didn't know whether she had killed him or not.

When he didn't get up, Frannie rushed over to Meg. She looked dazed and blinked several times before she focused on Frannie.

"Are you all right?"

"More or less," Meg answered, wincing as she rose awkwardly.

"Then let's..." Frannie trailed off as she noticed a wetness spreading on Meg's shoulder. "Oh, my God. You've been shot!"

Meg dismissed this with a wave of her good arm. Sounding slightly Fraserish, she said, "That's not important. What is important is getting the hell out of here."

Frannie felt suddenly light headed and bewildered. "But..."

"No buts. Now, let's go."

"At least let me wrap it."

"Not here, Frannie. We have to get out of the open. Come on."

Meg didn't wait for Frannie to respond. Instead, she took off at a slow jog. Frannie gave an exasperated sigh and grumbled to herself before taking off after her friend. She had a feeling Meg was going to suffer for her negligence, but at least Frannie would be there to pick up the pieces.

-------------------

Ben found himself in an extensive and beautiful garden. The flowers were in full bloom, and there were hundreds of varieties. Roses of different colors climbed the walls and mixed with the green ivy to give them a splash of joyful color. Several stone paths ran through the garden itself, through flowers and robust trees. Unlike the more popular modern cement, these paths were made from flat rocks, and they looked to have been there a long time. There were benches throughout, most located under trees to give someone a shady place to read or take in the sun. Birds and squirrels chattered happily and bees buzzed from flower to flower. Everything in the garden seemed to be taking an intense joy in being alive. It was hard to believe that ugly hearted men lived on the outside of this little world. Ben would not have been surprised to see Francesca run out to greet him, the garden taken as her refuge. The air around him remained still, however and, after a moment of quiet reflection, Ben began to move along the paths towards the far door.

As he walked, his thoughts were on Francesca and how much like a sister she had been to him. All of the Vecchios had adopted him. He had arrived in Chicago a solitary orphan, surprised when suddenly he had started collecting sisters and brothers like his grandmother had collected books. One of the most precious of these was Francesca. At first, he had found her slightly annoying--he had been angry with her for several weeks when Ray had almost drown because of her frivolousness. Shortly thereafter, he began to believe that her outward brashness was hiding something deeper and sweeter, and the more he got to know her the more he believed this. The annoyance he felt at her advances turned to platonic affection and, though he still found himself occasionally at wit's end in regards to her, his brotherly feeling only grew stronger. When she 'died', it had broken his heart.

His musings were abruptly interupted by the far off sound of gunfire. Faint as it was, the noise ripped through his body, bringing with it a wave of fear. When the wave reached his legs, Ben began to run.


	11. Chapter 10

Frannie's Lament

By Tanya Reed

This chapter is dedicated to britduck21, Sarai, nedfan, AEM1, and johnsparrow. Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: I still do not own anything belonging to the Due South universe.

-----------

Meg and Frannie stumbled over the uneven ground. Their progress was painfully slow, and Meg was sure they made unusually good targets. Angrily, she cursed herself and tried not to lean so heavily on Frannie.

After Meg was shot, the partners had fled for a good fifteen minutes before Frannie finally declared they were hidden enough for her to take care of Meg's wound. Meg had agreed in a surly manner, admitting only to herself that she was getting slightly lightheaded. And the pain was almost unbearable.

Frannie had ripped Meg's t-shirt up the sleeve seem to get better access to the wound. Then, using water she'd found nearby, which Meg doubted was very clean but hadn't said so, Frannie washed the drying blood away and used part of her already tiny top as a bandage. Meg had tried to seem unaffected during the operation, but it was hard with the pulses of pain that came with each beat of her heart. She had grit her teeth against the agony and told Frannie it was time for them to move on. It wasn't long after that that Meg began to stumble as her legs began to betray her weakened condition. She had protested at Frannie's supporting arm, but she was still grateful for it.

Frannie, who could die any moment because of _her_ weakness. It made Meg angry. The fact that it had all come down to this turtle's crawl as they waited to be popped off. A frustrated growl came from her throat. Frannie should not have to die because of her.

"Dammit, Frannie, leave me," she snarled, pulling away and almost falling to the ground.

The American regarded her silently for several minutes, her dark eyes betraying more intelligence than her brother ever gave her credit for.

"If you keep lugging me around, you're going to die."

"Pixie sticks," Frannie answered seriously. "No one knows where we are."

"But how long do you think that'll last at this pace? Your only chance is to leave me behind."

Fire sparked in her eyes as she replied, "I won't leave you."

"You have to. They'll kill..."

"I know you wouldn't leave me if our situations were reversed. Do you think I'm any less a woman than you are?"

"No, that's not..."

"You listen to me. My brother lugged Fraser to hell and back when they crashed that time. If Ray can do it, I think I can do it. Consider it a family trait."

Despite her pain and exasperation, Meg almost smiled. "Carrying Canadians to safety is a family trait?"

"It is today."

"I still don't thi..."

"Shut up, Meg." Frannie's grim voice stopped Meg's protests. Apparently, Frannie was determined to die lugging a piece of dead wood, and there was nothing Meg could do to stop her.

Meg remained silent as Frannie took hold of her again, her grip gentle despite her stormy expression. They went forward even more slowly than before, each step to Meg feeling as if her arm were being pulled off. She fought for consciousness through the pain, her respect for Frannie going up several notches. If plain stubborness could get them out of this alive, they just might have a chance.

------------------------------------

Stupid squirrel!

Kowalski sat up quickly, spluttering and trying to breathe. Cold water streamed down his face and dripped from the hair plastered to his skull. He struggled to stay upright, wiping a hand over his face so he could see. His clothes clung to him uncomfortably, and he hated the sensation of having water in his shorts.

The hand that was wiping at his face pushed hair off of his forehead. He splashed around, trying to get to his feet. The marble was slippery, causing him to swear under his breath as his feet kept slipping in different directions.

A voice made him freeze.

"Who's there?"

Instinctively, Ray dropped, burying himself in the water he had just been cursing. Peering over the rim, he silently wished for a piece.

A young man was making his way towards Ray, a gun in his hand. He looked as if he couldn't be more than twenty, and there was an air of timid uncertainty about him.

"Come out. I know I heard you," he said, coming closer.

Ray watched him warily, tensing his muscles. When the young criminal was close enough, Ray let out a roar and sprang from the fountain directly at him. He shot but missed as Ray's body slammed into his and knocked him to the ground. Their bodies made sloshy sounds as they struggled, and Ray found himself almost grateful to the squirrel. If not for the small animal, the man would have shot him before Ray knew that he was there.

Ray was slight but his opponent was more so, and he soon had the younger man pinned to the ground.

"Where is Renata?" Ray hissed, roughly slamming the boy against the ground.

Confusion went over his face, and he blinked once before asking, "What?"

"Renata! Where is she?" Frustration made Ray want to scream, but all he did was tighten his grip on the boy's clothes.

"I don't know."

Angrily, Ray banged him against the ground again. Images of Frannie out there and helpless filled his mind, and he absently realized that he was shaking.

"Really," the crook insisted. Fear had widened his dark eyes aso that they took over his pale face.

Reluctantly, Ray had to admit to himself that he believed him. With a sigh, he hit the kid's face as hard as he could. The body went limp under him, so Ray got up, picked up the discarded gun, and went to continue his search for Frannie.

---------------

Meg was getting heavier by the second, Frannie noted as she stumbled along supporting her partner. The Canadian was trying to carry her own weight but was failing miserably. It seemed to Frannie that she had been lugging her forever. Her whole body ached with the strain of it, and she didn't know how much further she could go on. Her knees were threatening to buckle; the only thing keeping Frannie from collapsing was knowing that if she failed they would both die.

It was at this moment that she raised her eyes from the dirt at their feet and saw a tiny building wreathed in silence. It was a small wooden shack, well kept except for some peeling paint and a bird's nest under the eaves. There was a dusty little window showing shadows of things inside. Frannie guessed it was some kind of gardener's shed, and nothing in her life had ever looked better.

Dragging Meg, still mindful of her wounded shoulder, Frannie made her way forward. She listened carefully for sounds of life but heard none. As she reached the building, Frannie peeked in the window. Inside was neat and orderly, with all manner of tools hung along the wall. Under the window was a table that was also piled with tools, and a wheelbarrow containing a shovel, a hose, and a bag of manure stood in one corner. It definitely would do.

Satisfied, Frannie went around the corner of the shed and found the door. She propped Meg up against the wall so she could try it, carefully making sure her partner did not fall. A smile spread over her face as the knob turned easily, and there wasn't even a creak as the well-oiled hinges allowed them to enter.

Once inside, Frannie said softly, "Meg."

"Hmmn?"

Frannie gently lowered her burden to the floor. The Canadian had been lapsing in and out of consciousness for the past little while, and Frannie wasn't sure how much she was aware of.

"I'm going to find the best way out. That will be easier to do by myself." The words sounded harsh but they were true. "I'll be back for you as soon as I find it."

"No," Meg protested, opening her eyes. They were glazed with pain.

"I have to, Meg, but I'll be back."

"Don't come back," Meg mumbled. "Leave me here."

"Huh?"

"Get out. If you come back, we'll both be lost."

"That again?" Frannie felt her anger flare. "I'm not leaving you here to be a centaur, Meg Thatcher, and that's final."

"Martyr."

"What?"

Meg didn't answer. Her eyes were closed and her breathing harsh.

"Meg?...Meg?"

Frannie leaned over Meg and wiped dark hair from her damp forehead. Hoping to get some reaction, she whispered, "Martyr, centaur, detour, back door...whatever!"

Her friend remained as still as death. With a sigh, Frannie got up and went to the door. Before leaving, she turned around and said, "I _will _be back for you, and you'd better be alive when I get here."


	12. Chapter 11

Frannie's Lament

by Tanya Reed

This section is for AEM1 because you were just saying you were looking forward to this chapter.

It's a short one, sorry. I think there are only two more after this one. Thanks to everyone who's stuck with it.

Disclaimer: Due South and its characters belong to Alliance Atlantis. I am not making a profit from this story.

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Ben moved stealthily through the estate, his years of survival in the wild making his passage as silent as a deer's. Though he had not heard any more gunshots, he still moved steadily in that direction. In the distance, he often heard the angry shouts of men, and each time he wondered if that meant they were chasing Francesca.

Suddenly, a sound to Ben's left made him hurry to use the side of a nearby building for cover. He peeked around the edge, hugging as close to the wooden wall as possible. His eyes followed a man as he hurried noisily by. Right after he passed Ben, he turned to call behind himself. At least five voices answered that shout, and the Mountie knew with certainty that they would soon be passing him as well.

Not wanting to take the chance of being seen, he slid towards the door that was almost close enough to touch. With relief, he grabbed the doorknob and turned it, slipping inside and shutting the door behind him.

Ben slowly started to relax, feeling more secure with four walls around him. He turned to survey the small building he had wandered into, taking in the gardening tools and homey feel. His eyes widened slightly as he also took in the crumpled form on the floor. Dark hair covered its face, but the litheness of its body made him positive it was female. A slow movement near its ribs showed that it was still alive.

Puzzlement was driven back as the smell of blood mixed with northern flowers in spring reached his nostrils. The smell made him hurry forward, something niggling at the back of his mind.

He knelt by the still body, which was warm to his touch, turning it slightly to brush soft strands from its face.

Ben froze, his body momentarily forgetting how to move as he stared into a face he thought he'd never see again. No one had mentioned her; Ben had never even considered the possibility that she might be involved. Meg Thatcher. The woman who could play his emotions like a flute, making them respond any way she liked with a word or a gesture. The woman whose beautiful face haunted his dreams. How she came to be in this shed, lying on the cold dirt floor, wounded and alone, was a mystery to him. The odds were that she was the Ice Queen, Francesca's named partner, but that explained next to nothing.

His heart refused to beat as he took in how pale her skin was beneath its coating of dirt and blood. Gently, he touched her face again, assuring himself that she was there. Reality came rushing back as Meg responded with a soft moan. Ben's mission and duty hit him like a hammer to his gut, and suddenly, he found he could move normally again.

"Ma'am?" he asked softly, his voice cracking slightly. Why hadn't someone told him she was involved? Then he repeated, "Ma'am?"

She stirred before opening her eyes. They blinked several times, holding confusion and uncertainty.

"It's all right, ma'am. It's just me. No one will hurt you."

Her eyes focused on him. "Fraser?"

"Yes, ma'am. I must say that your presence here surprises me."

"Likewise," she whispered, the hint of a smile touching her face. "How did you find me?"

"We are all here—Ray, Ray, and I. Francesca might have told you how we discovered her. We have come to aide her and her partner in their escape. I assume the partner would be you."

She nodded then coughed and winced. "It's cold in here, Fraser. Are there any blankets?"

Fraser looked around, though he already knew the answer. Finding no more blankets than he had expected, he took off his jacket and prepared to wrap it around her. Before he did, his eyes took in the dirty, blood dyed, make-shift bandage Francesca must have put there. The amount of blood in the material frightened him, and his shirt followed the jacket.

At the sound of tearing cloth, Meg turned her head slightly. "Whatr you doin'?"

Her words were slightly slurred, and Fraser didn't want to acknowledge what that might mean. "That's not important. What is important is that you tell me where Francesca is."

"Not sure. Went to find a way out."

"Understood," he replied, reaching for her bandage.

At his touch, Meg let out a strangled cry. Ben made soothing sounds to quiet her, noting that her breathing was getting more shallow and sweat had broken out on her skin. His stomach fluttered with worry as he ripped his shirt into two pieces. One, he gently wiped her face with; the other he used to reinforce her bandage.

"Fraser," she asked several moments later, after he had finished with the bandage and wrapped her in his jacket.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Where is Turnbull?"

"Turnbull?"

"Yes, and why haven't you finished that report on the train incident? It was supposed to be on my desk an hour ago."

"I'm working on it, ma'am," he told her, playing along with her hallucination and feeling his intense worry turn to fear. He had to get her out of there. If something happened, he would never forgive himself.

Reaching into his belt, Ben took out the radio stashed there. Remembering the trouble they always had with covert names like the stallion/penguin farce of so long ago, he simply said, "Ray?"

"Yeah, Benny?" came one, and "Here, Buddy," came the other.

"I've found..." Ben's voice threatened to shake, so he paused briefly to strengthen it before continuing. "I've found Francesca's partner."

"And Frannie?" This was Vecchio.

"I don't know, Ray. They're not together. Francesca is on her way to the wall."

"Which way?" This was Kowalski.

"Unknown. She's supposed to return here, though. If I give you my coordinates, one of you can come and wait for her, while the other patrols the wall."

Vecchio sounded puzzled as he answered, "What about you?"

Ben looked at his former superior officer and answered, "I've got to get...her partner to a doctor. She's been shot."

There was a pause, then, "Where are you? I'll be there as soon as I can."

"I can't wait, Ray."

"It's all right. You go. Kowalski, can you head towards the wall?"

"No problem."

"Great."

Ben gave them directions, then turned his attention back to Meg. Tenderly, he took her into his arms, holding her precious form. She moaned again, causing his teeth to clench and his heart to lurch painfully.

"Everything is going to be all right, ma'am. I'm going to get you out of here."

With that promise, he held her closer and moved to the door.


	13. Chapter 12

Frannie's Lament

by Tanya Reed

Disclaimer: Due South STILL doesn't belong to me.

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Frannie slowly made her way towards a little building built especially for the guards. There were several of these buildings scattered along the wall, all aimed at keeping interlopers out. She hoped this one wouldn't be as successful at keeping people in. Each building was in the open and usually guarded day and night.

The closer Frannie got, the more exposed she felt. She had lost her gun long before, while supporting Meg, and she knew that if the guard saw her, she would die.

The pounding of her heart filled her ears and it was hard to concentrate. Her legs felt shaky; the thought that she might have gone through everything just to have it end here was terrifying. She was so on edge that when she heard movement coming from the front of the building, she almost cried out. She managed to force it down, steeling her nerve to try to creep up on him unaware.

Using the building for cover, Frannie moved quietly around it and it took another gathering of nerve to actually peek towards the sounds.

The wiry blond guard was scuffing his shoe into the dirt. A gun dangled from well formed fingers, and there was a tenseness in his body that belied his lazy actions.

He was closer than Frannie had expected. Her mind and heart froze for an instant as she wondered what she should do. Remembering how well her fight with Weber had gone, even though she had Meg's help, Frannie decided to try the same tactic again. Letting out a barbaric yell, she rushed forward and launched herself at his back. Instead of beating his head uselessly as she had the last time, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, preparing to squeeze.

Satisfaction touched her as she felt surprise go through him, but it had no chance to settle before he did something unexpected. Before Frannie had a firm hold on him, he leaned his lithe body forward, catching hold of her shirt in his fist. With a sharp tug, Frannie felt herself become airborne. The air whooshed from her lungs as she hit the ground hard, and she was sure that she was done for. A fist quickly coming towards her face made her close her eyes in anticipation.

"Frannie?" The familiar voice made her eyes fly open.

"Ray?"

There he was, hair and clothes damp, which she had been too scared to notice before, dirt smudged and scuffle worn, and he was still the best thing she had seen in a very long time.

She sat up quickly, startled as strong arms wrapped around her and drew her close.

"I'm so glad you're all right," he murmured, burying his face in her hair.

Frannie returned the hug, clinging to him a moment before pulling away. Ray's hand came up and touched her face, and a grin broke over his.

"I thought I would never see you again."

She covered his hand with hers, asking, "What are you doing here?"

"Brother Joe told us what was going on, and then Frase heard them talk about you bein' trapped out here."

"So, you came to save me?"

"Yep. And now I've found you, we can get da hell outta here."

He stood up and offered his hand. Frannie took it, saying, "Well, we've got to get Meg first."

Ray's brow furrowed. "Me...? Oh, yeah. Yer partner. It's all right."

Thinking Ray was going to suggest they leave Meg there, heat came to her cheeks. "Listen, Ray, I know you never liked her much, but she is my partner and I have to go back."

"Don't like her? I don't even know her."

His look of complete bafflement convinced Frannie that he thought he was telling the truth.

"Meg—you know, Inspector Thatcher."

"Inspector..." Then Ray's blue eyes widened. "Inspector Thatcher? You mean da Ice Queen is _really_ da Ice Queen? Why didn't Fraser say anything?"

Frannie felt exasperation flood through her. All this small talk could cost Meg her life. She almost yelled, "How would Fraser know if you didn't?"

"He's the one who found her in that shed you left her in."

"He found her?"

"Yeah, about a half hour ago. They should be long gone by now. She was shot, ya know."

Frannie breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God she's safe. I've been so worried."

Ray raised his eyebrows. "Since when have you and da Ice Queen been friends?"

"Since she hauled me outta my life and showed me I was worth something. Can we go now?"

"Yup. Just gotta let Vecchio know we're getting out."

He then hugged her again quickly, surprising her, before taking out a walkie talkie from his belt. His finger hesitated before touching the button, and he took a deep breath. When he raised his eyes a moment later, she found something intriguing in their depths.

"Is something wrong, Ray?"

Several emotions played over his face, but he just said quietly," I've missed you, Frannie."

Seeing there was something more, she prodded, "What? My replacement can't find a file?"

"You were dead."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I was sad. I care about ya. Not just for getting files 'n stuff. Yer my friend."

Suddenly, understanding flooded over Frannie as a million little things that happened before she disappeared clicked into place. Smiling, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Feeling his surprise, her smile widened and a warm feeling went through her, head to toe.

Taking his hand, she said softly, "I like you too, Ray."

He gave her hand a squeeze and winked, a boyish grin spreading over his face, before he finally pushed the button to call her brother. Frannie watched him happily, thoughts whirling inside her mind. Could it have been just minutes ago that she was sure everything would fall apart and both she and Meg would die? Now it all seemed so far away, pushed by an amazing truth. After all the time she spent chasing it, all it took was her disappearance to make somebody really love her.

----------------------------------------

Three happy and relieved people finally found the place where some of the same three people had crossed the wall a couple of hours before. Vecchio kept sneaking glimpses at his sister, noticing how grown up and self-assured she looked. And how happy. There seemed to be a glow emanating from her, one that enhanced the vitality and love of life that had always characterized her. He also noted that she did not loose Kowalski's hand through their whole journey along the wall. He was surprised to find that it didn't bother him.

She was a mess. Vecchio had hardly recognized her as he approached the place where she and Kowalski were waiting for him. Dirt covered her form, and her already short garments were ripped and torn. There was blood from a cut on her cheek and wild excitement shining from her dark eyes. Her disheveled hair was longer than he remembered it being since she was a little girl, and the self-confidence in her bearing made him uncertain. But then she had seen him and smiled, and it was all Frannie. A happy hum settled in Vecchio's stomach as he remembered the way she had left Kowalski's side to grab her brother in a crushing hug. Tears had threatened him at that point. He just couldn't believe his sister was alive.

Vecchio's thoughts were broken from the recent memories by Kowalski's voice.

"We put it behind this bush."

"I don't see it, Ray," Frannie answered good-naturedly.

"That's because it was _this_ bush," Vecchio broke in and went to retrieve the backpack.

Kowalski looked sheepish, but for once Vecchio didn't feel like rubbing it in. They used the rope and the three of them clambered over, experiencing less troubles than the Rays had the first time, then set out in search of the place where they'd left their car.

As they got closer, it began to occur to Vecchio that the car probably wasn't there anymore. How else would Fraser get the Ice Queen to the hospital? It was just as his adrenaline filled brain was cluing in to this that he thought he saw a hint of a sparkle coming through some foliage nearby. His heart almost stopped as his first thought was of a gun. The sparkle didn't move, however, and his sudden burst of fear turned to curiosity.

"Well, there you are," came a soft, feminine voice, and that same foliage began to rustle.

Vecchio quickly shoved Frannie behind him, and Kowalski reached for the gun he had stolen from the boy near the fountain. Frannie's vocal protest went unheard as Vecchio waited tensely. The face that emerged was one he hadn't been expecting. Pretty, with a strong nose and a knock-out smile.

"Andrea."

"Yes, Andrea," she agreed, wiping leaves and bark from her clothing. She didn't know there were still twigs in her hair. "It took you long enough to get here. I've been waiting forever."

Vecchio knew his mouth was hanging open. He hadn't even thought to close it before Kowalski asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I knew the three of you would pull something like this. You're all stubborn and think you know everything. I think it's a male trait. Hello, Godmother. Are you well?"

Frannie pushed past her brother and gave him a scathing look. "As well as can be expected with men shooting at me. Have you seen the Ice Queen?"

Andrea nodded, coming closer. Kowalski looked at Vecchio, who nodded, so he put down his gun.

"She and Fraser came out awhile ago. I am officially not supposed to be here, but for some reason, I've taken a liking to the three most annoying men in the world." Frannie smiled knowingly. "I wanted to look out for them, so when I heard they were in the office when Cat heard about Harvey, I thought bat ears might have overheard. I came out here without telling anyone in case they needed help. It turned out Fraser did need an extra pair of hands to get Ice Queen over the wall. Then, he left, and I told him I'd wait for you. Need a lift?"

"That'd be great," Frannie answered.

"Who _are_ you?" Vecchio finally asked.

"As you know, I'm the Pretender. Now, come on, Sweetie, before I leave you behind."

Suddenly, Ray felt a smile take over his face as all the tension of the past year seemed to drain out of his body.

"What a woman," he announced, coming forward and startling Andrea with a hug. Then, he gently picked a leaf out of her hair. As he watched it tumble to the ground, he whispered, "I don't know if I can leave you behind."

Blushing as she had when just a simple maid, Andrea said gruffly, "Get in the car, Vecchio."

And he did.


	14. Chapter 13

Frannie's Lament

by Tanya Reed

Well, we've finally made it to the end. I hope the ride was enjoyable and that you liked Meg and Frannie's little adventure. Thank you very much to everyone who reviewed. Since I had to type this up as I went (I only had a paper copy), you were very encouraging.

Disclaimer: I do not own Due South, and I am not making a profit from this story.

---------------------------------

Three days later, the day Meg left the hospital, she and Frannie had their debriefing. The two of them traveled to the little building that the three co-operating countries had designated as their base and gave their report to the Professor, who would be passing it along. The release of the information, and the subsequent tossing away of Renata and Angelique, made the two women feel freer than they had in a year.

As the two of them left the barn-like structure, Frannie looked over at Meg. The Canadian was grinning widely, a bounce to her step despite the sling over her shoulder and the very impressive shiner on her eye. She reminded Frannie of a loosed bird, and the American almost expected her partner to achieve flight.

Happiness filled Frannie as well. She had come through her first mission alive, and she had done a damn good job too. The pride she was feeling was a strange but welcome emotion, and she was grateful to Meg for allowing her to feel it. Never before had she had such a feeling of accomplishment. She could do anything she set her mind to. Anything.

Three men were waiting patiently for them, all leaning casually against the rented car. Frannie, who hadn't seen them for more than a few minutes at a time since their shared adventure, thought they all looked tired and older than when she had left them but happy. Fraser looked exhausted, but she knew that was due to his insistence on sitting up with Meg the whole time she was in the hospital. Frannie, who at one time would have been jealous, found his concern for her partner touching, and she hoped something lasting would come of it.

As Frannie and Meg approached, the men stood up straighter, Kowalski even running a hand through his electrified hair. Frannie felt warmth flood through her at his smile, and she was glad she had found enough time alone with him to have a little talk.

"All done?" he asked, coming forward to take her hand.

"Yup. All over but the cryin'."

"What'd they say?" This was Vecchio, who didn't even seem slightly surprised at her closeness to Kowalski.

"Well," Meg answered with a smile. "They've got the information they need about Mario's dealings and contacts. I guess he's flown the coop again; his estate is deserted. Hopefully, the information we provided will keep him from using the same channels when he tries to begin somewhere else. Lawrence was brought in by the English police today. If they can't get anything on him, he's been promised to the CSIS and the CIA for interrogation. He was definitely involved."

"Then Andrea's free?" Vecchio asked eagerly.

Meg gave him a strange look and shook her head. "The Pretender left for Australia this morning."

Vecchio's face fell, so Frannie changed the subject by saying cheerily, "The good news is, Meg and I are free for a couple of days, so the five of us can spend some time together."

"That's great, Frannie." Kowalski squeezed her hand.

"I'm just curious, sir," Fraser said, running a knuckle over his eyebrow.

"Meg."

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's about time you started calling me 'Meg'."

"Um...Well...Yes..."

"What is it you are curious about, Fraser?"

His momentary look of discomfort faded as he asked, "How did you and Francesca end up as partners?"

"Oh, I asked for her."

"You did?" Vecchio looked incredulously.

"Yes, I did, Vecchio. You should give your sister some credit. I was asked if I knew of anyone I would like as a partner, and I knew they were looking for civilians, so I suggested Frannie."

"But why?"

"Because she was perfect. I had worked with her before, and I trusted her." Then she gave a strange little smile. "With everything but Fraser, that is. I enjoyed her perspective when dealing with that mall stabbing, and I admired her style when working on the Bounty case. She was honest, and I knew I could depend on her. All these were desirable traits in a partner. Besides, I knew her, and she possessed an important quality that female agents sometimes need to use. The ability to manipulate men."

"Are you saying I'm a hussy?" Frannie asked in mock seriousness, causing Meg to laugh.

"I gotta tell ya, this is a surprise. I thought ya hated each other," Kowalski admitted.

"No. Just jealous of each other. We got over it," Frannie answered, giving him a possessive smile.

"So, Frannie," her brother said, "Now that you've had your adventure, when are you coming home?"

All the playfulness Frannie was feeling left her in a rush. She had been dreading this conversation since that night in Mario's study. How was she going to answer his accusations, and how could she tell him she was never coming home?

"We've got to talk about that Ray." She let go of Kowalski's hand and asked, "Can the three of you leave us alone for a minute?"

"Sure."

"Of course."

"Certainly, Francesca."

As the three of them walked away, Frannie witnessed something she never would have thought possible. Leaving Frannie's side, Kowalski went up to Meg and said shyly, "Inspector?"

Meg turned her best Ice Queen face on him, but Frannie could tell she was doing it in fun.

"Yes, Detective?"

The look melted away as Kowalski grabbed her and gave her a gentle hug. "I always liked you, and I'm glad yer okay."

"Why, thank you, Ray," she said softly, hugging him back with her good arm. "I've always liked you too."

Then, the three of them continued to move on. Frannie found that Kowalski's simple gesture had sent a shroud of well being to surround her. Her resolve for her conversation with her brother strengthened, and she was grateful.

As soon as the others were out of earshot, Ray asked, "Well?"

She turned to look at him. "Well, what?"

"You're coming back with us, aren't you? I mean, you've proven yourself. You've gained respect. Now you're coming home."

Frannie shook her head sadly. "No, Ray, I'm not. I'm not coming home."

He looked surprised. "You have to come home."

"If there's one thing I've learned, it's that I don't _have_ to do anything. Life is about choices, and I can make any one I want. I don't owe my life to you or to anyone."

"Frannie, we thought you were dead! And now you're saying you won't come home?" She opened her mouth to speak but he continued, "How could you do that to us? Don't you know the effect this had on Ma? On me? On all the people who love you? That wasn't responsible, it was cruel. And I don't care how much you needed self-respect, it shouldn't have been bought with our pain!"

"But you..." she started, only to be cut off again.

"At least you knew I was undercover. At least you knew I was alive."

Anger burst from her, enough to meet his head to head. Vecchio against Vecchio. "We knew no such thing. For all we knew, you were lying there with a bullet in your head. We were left wondering, always wondering. Do you know what that was like for us? Not knowing whether you were going to come home? At least this was an absolute. At least you_ knew_. When someone asked Ma how her daughter was doing, she didn't have to smile and lie. Who was more cruel, Ray? You tell me. The one who told the truth and made her live the lie, or the one who told the lie but allowed her to live the truth?"

Ray looked as if she had slapped him, so Frannie took a deep calming breath. "Look. I love you very much, but I was tired. Can you understand that? I was tired of being the dumb one, tired of being the one it was impossible to respect. If I couldn't respect myself, how could my family respect me? I needed to like myself, Ray, and for some strange reason, this has helped. I know now that I can do things. I can pretend to be someone else; I can react well under pressure; I can even kill a man if I have to."

He ran a hand over his head, his anger gone. "So, you're not coming home?"

"No, not now, anyway. Maybe not ever. I need this. I need to bring down scumbags that would hurt things that I care about. It's not all that different from what you do."

"But what about Ma?"

"You can tell her I'm alive. And Maria and Tony, but no one else can know. No one."

"If no one knows, you can't even come home to visit."

Frannie felt tears come to her eyes. "I know. But I'm going to get an apartment in Ottawa. I'll give you the number and you can come and see me any time I'm home."

He sighed but nodded.

"Please, don't be mad, Ray."

"I'm not mad anymore, Frannie. I just...well, I'm going to miss you."

"I'm going to miss you too." Frannie gave him a quick hug. "Now, I suppose we should go get the other Ray. He's wandering the field looking lost."

Then, the two of them clasped hands and started to walk for the first time not as big brother and little sister but as equals.

------------------------

When Meg found herself alone with Ben because of Frannie and Vecchio's conversation and Kowalski's desire to see a cow close up, she suddenly felt shy. She couldn't remember much about the time after her shooting so, in essence, this was the first time they had been alone in two years. As she regarded Ben, she thought that two years hadn't changed him much. He was still so handsome that it made her stomach hurt, with eyes that could look right inside her soul.

The two of them walked along in silence for several moments, Meg trying to figure out how to say what she wanted to.

"How are you feeling, ma'am?" It was Fraser who spoke first.

She stopped and faced him, a smile coming to her features. It hurt slightly because of the bruising, but Meg didn't care.

"My shoulder is a little sore," she admitted, indicating her sling.

"That's to be expected."

"True. I must also look like somebody's discarded punching bag. Shirley Weber landed me a couple of good ones."

"Your eye is quite swollen." He looked sympathetic. "However, you are as attractive as always."

Meg felt herself coloring at the unexpected compliment. They were rare from Fraser and always made her feel very flustered.

To hide her embarrassment, she said flippantly, "Well, that's nice. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to join the CSIS-CIA beauty pageant this year."

She leaned forward, her good elbow propping her against a fence. She watched Kowalski in the distance, crouching staring a mild mannered young heifer in the face and, further off, Frannie and Vecchio gesticulating wildly as they argued. A slight breeze touched her face and ruffled her hair. She closed her eyes to feel it better, enjoying being able to breathe once more as Meg Thatcher.

"You don't know how surprised I was when Frannie said she saw the three of you in Mario's study."

The fence creaked as Fraser settled beside her. "No more surprised than we were when we spotted Francesca."

"I imagine not." Meg turned to look at him, noting that the wind was playing with his hair as well. It made him look boyish. "What are you doing here anyway? Why England?"

"I came to play a part in Wilson's funeral, and Ray and Ray came with me. When we arrived, Lawrence asked us to stay with him. We were not aware of criminal activity until we saw Francesca."

"A coincidence." She laughed. "Well, it figures. They do seem to happen around you, don't they?"

He smiled slightly back. "Sometimes."

"Life is never dull with you, anyhow."

"One could say the same for you."

Meg thought back over the passed year and agreed, "I guess you're right. I wouldn't trade it, though. But I could do without seeing Angelique again."

"Angelique?"

"My cover. God, I hated being that woman."

"A French woman?"

"Yes, why?"

Fraser actually chuckled. "You talked to Ray once, over the phone."

"Yes, I did. Why? What did he say?"

"Nothing important." He waved a hand. "So, when are the two of you expected to report in again?"

"We leave the day you do, I believe. Different plane. We've got to meet our supervisors in Ottawa for briefing on our next assignment. Then, we're promised at least a month or two leave." Then, she paused and looked away. "I was wondering if you'd mind my coming down to visit you."

"You are always welcome in my home," he said softly.

Her gaze quickly returned to him. "Really? I thought you might find my being in your personal space uncomfortable."

Fraser didn't answer, just shook his head.

"I have missed you, Fraser. You do know that you are a rare type?"

"Not so rare, I think."

"Modest too." She watched him turn his face away, anticipating a moment of discomfort. "I have to thank you, Fra...Ben. Thank you for saving my life. It seems that every time I'm in a bind, you're there to get me out."

Then, on impulse, she leaned forward to kiss his cheek. At that moment, he turned, saying, "Anyone would have..." His voice trailed off as her lips touched his. A jolt went through Meg, and she suddenly found it hard to breathe. They remained together, touching at the lips, for several seconds before she pulled away, intent on apologizing.

Her words died in her throat as she saw the slightly stunned look on Ben's face. He did not look as if he were embarrassed. In fact, his arms reached for her and pulled her body gently back against his. Work worn but tender fingers ran through her hair and then down her cheek.

"You kissed me."

She nodded, still unable to speak. Her body was trembling in awareness of him, and his smell was making her light headed. The hand on her cheek brought her face very close to his. Ben paused a moment, as if waiting for a protest, before leaning forward to kiss her again.

---------------------------

It was hard to say good-bye. Frannie stood among her friends and didn't know if she could give three of them up. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes but she blinked them back, determined to show at least as brave a front as Meg.

Frannie clung tightly to Kowalski's hand in the busy airport. People rushed by them, often close enough to ruffle her clothes, but Frannie ignored them. She fought desperately to fix each face around her firmly in her memory.

Meg and Ben were standing close together but not speaking or touching as Meg and Vecchio bickered lightly. The two Canadians looked like mere acquaintances despite the romantic agreement they had reached. Frannie wished she could display that much detachment.

Though her brother was talking to Meg, there was an absent air to it, as if he did not know what to do with himself. His eyes were too bright and his jaw kept clenching. They were the only indications that he shared her unshed tears.

Lastly, her gaze fell on the other Ray, who was watching her as if she were the most fascinating thing in the world. His blue eyes were filled with the things she had been searching for all of those years, and the irony that she had found them only after she wished for something more was not lost on her.

As she watched him, her mind went over the last three nights. Images of touches and kisses and sighs almost overwhelmed her. It was like some beautiful dream and she hadn't wanted it to end.

"Flight 111 to Ottawa now boarding," came over the speaker and everyone stilled. Even Meg and Vecchio stopped the fond bickering that had been going on for the past few days.

For a moment, Frannie was torn. Desire to go home was almost too strong to fight. Then, images of the people around her patting her head when she did what they perceived as good, as if she were a favorite pet, sprang to her mind. It was enough to propel her forward to give Kowalski a crushing hug and a deep kiss.

"I love you, and I'll call you tomorrow. I promise." Then, seeing his heartbroken look, "If I could, I..."

He reached forward and put a finger on her lips. "Do what you have to do, Frannie. Then, come home to me."

She nodded mutely, the tears she had been fighting starting to fall. Meg's hand was suddenly on her arm, giving a gentle tug.

"Come on, Frannie. We've got to go."

Her Ice Queen mask was a little frayed and Frannie could tell she was not as unaffected as she seemed. Quickly, Frannie hugged her brother and Fraser, feeling their kisses on her cheek. She could see nothing because the tears were too thick, but she heard Vecchio's soft whisper of, "Come home when you're ready. We'll be waiting."

"Thanks, Ray," she choked, pulling away reluctantly.

"Ready?" Meg asked gently, the hand on Frannie's shoulder trembling slightly. Frannie nodded and the two of them moved towards their gate.

They were about halfway there when Meg stopped. Frannie looked over to see her partner's face was a mask of pain. Meg tried to take a calming breath, but it ended in a sob mingled with, "Damn." Then, Meg turned and ran back the way they had come. Fraser's arms were waiting for her. He pulled her close, kissing her face and whispering sweet words. The embrace only lasted a few moments, but when Meg pulled away, wiping her eyes, her expression was more natural. The Ice Queen had fled. As she came back to Frannie, she smiled softly to show her partner that she was all right, then the two of them turned back one last time. The men all gave a half-hearted wave, and Frannie struggled and managed a smile for them before the crowd hid them from sight.

Frannie was proud that her voice hardly shook as she looked at Meg and asked, "So, what do you think our second mission will be?"

The End


End file.
